This is How We Fall Apart
by PandaPjays
Summary: Bryan has only ever known violence. He can't escape it and, mostly, doesn't want to. He has even utilised it in his career as a bodyguard. He thought it was something no one else could understand. But then he met Brooklyn. Set after Grev. BryBrook
1. Author's Note

_Author's Note_

Sometimes you need to write. Sometimes, when you hear something that is so horrible and so gut-wrenchingly sad that it consumes all of your thoughts and all of your dreams, there is no other option. Writing acts as a healing potion in times like that, drawing out the poison and casting it on to the page where it can be shared with the world and diluted into something manageable.

Or, at least, something that won't plague you every second of every day.

Writing this... has been one of those experiences, I think. At least now I know that these thoughts exist somewhere that isn't in the dark recesses of my mind. They've been given freedom to fill the world with their own brand of poison.

Hopefully while they look the other way, gleeful at all their new victims, they will give me a chance to run and fill my head with thoughts that won't send me cold in Russia's feeble attempts at summer and maybe I can be free of this.

It all started out innocently enough, I suppose.

Well... Not really, if you get down to it. I mean, this did begin when I visited my childhood friend while he was serving out his sentence for murder. Or maybe, in truth, this began when we met at Balcov Abbey under the ever-watchful eyes of Boris.

Maybe this began when he decided not to watch anymore?

No, now I'm definitely confusing myself.

For me, this began the day I went to visit Bryan Kuznetsov. He'd almost completed the first year of his nine-year sentence. I hadn't seen him for quite a few years- we'd fallen out of touch during... well, _during_. But he'd sent me a letter, written on several scraps of paper he'd scrounged from his cell (or so the letter told me) and smuggled out by one of the recently released inmates.

Now that I think about it, he may have needed to share his story as well. It can't hurt as much if two people know about it.

But two people are the reason this story exists.

Once again I've talked myself off topic. I visited him that day in my professional capacity as an investigative journalist. After receiving his letter I sweet-talked my editor into allowing me to do a piece about the overcrowding and general poor conditions of our country's prison system. Complete bullshit, obviously, but I had a better chance of being allowed to see Bryan that way and would get to see him in a private setting rather than a visitation room made noisy by the cries of children and abandoned wives and family.

So it came that I was ushered through the suffocating concrete labyrinth of the place Bryan now called home into an interview room that had seen better days back when it was merely in appalling disrepair. Now the concrete crumbled from the walls and the stink of mildew, stale water and fear pervaded the place.

I sat down in the uncomfortable fold-out chair they had provided for me. No such amenities were supplied for the man I was visiting.

He walked into the room, closed in his shapeless, grey prison uniform and unhindered by any kind of restraints. The guard who had let him in gave me a nod before closing the door behind Bryan. They had given me a small remote with a panic button to press should things go wrong (heaven knows how they expected it to work buried in so much concrete), but had otherwise respected my request for privacy.

I regarded the man standing before me. He was still the powerfully-built man I remembered. Bryan had always had a large, intimidating build that had run to muscle no matter how little he exercised or how badly he ate. Prison hadn't done anything to change that. Neither had prison changed his hair, a dead-straight lavender mop that hung in uneven clumps but still seemed to work for him. When I had known him he'd sometimes cut that hair short and spike it, even making the effort to dye it silver when the mood took him. Now it was its natural colour, a shade that matched his eerily light eyes that reminded me uncomfortably of a blind man.

It was his eyes, however, that had changed. Far from those of a blind man, Bryan's eyes spoke of a life in which he'd seen too much that he couldn't unsee. His eyes spoke of a torment that could only be experienced to be believed.

"Tala." He acknowledged, nodding his head. "You got my note?"

"All of them. How are you?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. The chair the guards had given me was already starting to make my arse go numb.

He shrugged, folding his arms. I caught sight of something else that had changed since I'd seen him last: a tattoo. It was the faded, inexact mottle of a prison tattoo and wrapped his right ring finger in a band of darkness where a ring might have gone if his life had turned out differently. "The food is shit, there are too many people and I haven't had the chance to wash for three days. Otherwise, fine," he said flatly.

Only after he mentioned it did I notice the fetid smell of unwashed human. And, in the way of such smells, it became all I was aware of while he told his story. It was all I could do not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. However, in my time as a journalist I've had to deal with worse in situations where the consequences have been much more dire if I'd shown my feelings. So I kept my face neutral.

"Why did you ask me to come here?" I asked, watching as he moved to lean against the wall that looked least likely to fall down on him.

He smiled.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Bryan smile. And, God willing, it will be the last smile I see like that. I never believed so much pain and self-loathing and hatred could be packed into such an innocuous expression.

"I wanted to tell you a story. It's not a pleasant one but it's one that needs to be told while there are people left to tell it. You'll already know some of it—but not the important things. Not the things that _matter_. The truth lies in the details and the parts that have never been shared."

This is what this book is: Bryan's story as he told me in that dark, stinking room. His eyes were closed as he spoke, telling me about the events as if they were happening only now, not years ago.

I've tried to preserve the story as he told me, only adding in parts where they were needed for coherence and keeping my own commentary to myself as much as possible.

I hope now I can sleep at night

_-Tala Ivanov._

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Ohoho. The ol' bait-and-switch author's note. Gets 'em every time. XD

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** Violence, more violence, sex, wild extrapolations of character, abuse, maybe a bit more violence

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, only play.

**The Real Author's Note:**

Welcome to my NaNoWriMo novel. Despite all promises to myself to wait until January or until the beast is fully edited or fully written (Even one of those goals would have been nice), here it is. I'll be updating weekly in order to give myself time to catch up on my editing/writing so there won't be any crazy delays with updating. Not this time. Promise.

Many thanks to _iluvbeyblade_ for not only inspiring me to write some fanfic for NaNo but also for being totally awesome and winning NaNo with me. Without her I would probably still be drinking unhealthy amounts of tea and staring hopelessly at a blank screen.

Also, I'm in desperate need of a brutally-honest-bordering-on-downright-nasty beta-reader. I've managed to blackmail/goad/guilt one of my friends (who doesn't know anything about bey and hates fan fiction as a genre, mind you. She's a champion for even doing the first few chapters) to helping me with the first few chapters and I'm doing my best but... another pair of eyes would be awesome. Like, really amazingly awesome. Let me know if you'd be interested.

And, as always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please tell me what you think.


	2. Violent Beginnings

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **First chapter of the story proper. How exciting! I'm still looking for a beta, if anyone wants the job. You know you totally want the job.

Also, I won't be posting next week because I'll be busy living it up (read: getting horribly sunburnt and reading terrible romance novels XD) in Fiji. I might post the next chapter early, though, so we'll see ^^

That said, enjoy this chapter! I like writing from Bryan's POV. He makes me happy.

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I've always been a violent person. Well, at least for as long as I can remember. I doubt that as a small child I was busy thinking up new ways to destroy things. I would have been too busy doing whatever it is little kids do. I haven't had much contact with kids so I can't even guess at what that is.

My first memories are of violence.

I can remember being taken from the orphanage by the man I would come to hate. He seemed nice enough when we left, holding my small, child-sized hand in his own huge one as we left the only place I'd ever known as home. I can remember feeling the cold bite of the Russian wind against the tracks my tears had made as I waved goodbye to the nuns who were the only parents I had ever known.

At least I wasn't going alone. That Man had chosen five of us—all boys, all endowed with the inner strength and hardness borne of growing up the way we did. The nuns did their best for us, I'm sure. But there's only so much love that can be given and so much goodwill that can be shared.

He took us out of the orphanage grounds and bundled us into the back of a large van. I suppose, had I been the type to watch movies or read books, alarm bells should have started ringing in my head then. Instead, I can remember the sense of adventure. I remember thinking that no matter where we went it was all going to be alright and things could only get better.

I suppose we were all idiots as children.

The van drove for hours with us all stuck in the dark confines of the back. I can remember one of the boys, time has robbed his name from me, weeping. It was a constant sound and in the dark of that place I can remember thinking that there had never been a more annoying sound on this planet than that quiet whimpering combined with the occasional snotty breath before the whimpering began again.

Eventually my world began to reduce to the rocking of the van, the hard floor, the feeling of my neighbour's elbow digging into my side and that stupid kid's crying.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand his noise anymore and was about to go over there to make him shut up the van stopped.

The door opened, letting blinding light into the van. I squinted up at the silhouette of That Man, hopeful that our journey had come to an end.

"Get out."

None of the warm, comforting tone he had used in the orphanage was left in that voice. Instead there was an icy coldness that some instinct in me knew to fear. This wasn't the man who had cajoled us with promises of a new home. This was the man who frightened us into following him into the gates of hell.

We all climbed out of the van, stumbling on legs that had been cramped into one position for hours. Far from taking us to a destination the van had taken us to the kind of place desolate doesn't accurately describe.

That Man sneered as the weeping boy emerged from the van, stumbling like the rest of us and blinking his reddened and puffy eyes in the harsh sunlight.

I wish I could remember his name. His face will forever be burned into my memory. He had one of those faces that looked like all the features had been pinched too close together—something not helped by his hours of crying, mind you. But it's the shock of bright green hair that stuck up at all angles that will stay with me for life.

Or, at least the way the hair turned from a bright green to a murky reddish colour when That Man pulled a gun faster than my child-eyes could register and shot him. The boy collapsed on to the hard ground, never to cry again.

"I don't tolerate weaklings," he said, looking down at our terrified faces. "You would do well to remember that."

We all nodded again, too terrified to do anything else. The nameless boy's blood was soaking into the ground. I was unfortunate enough to be the closest to him and I could see the puddle drawing closer and closer to my shoes. I didn't dare move, however, I didn't want to be the next body hitting the ground to lie pathetic and broken.

Maybe it was in that thought that everything started to go wrong? If not then, then definitely in the next few minutes. That was when my fate was sealed and my contract with violence was signed.

"Turn and look at the person next to you."

Now that he had killed one of us, there were only four left so we paired up neatly. I looked into the frightened eyes of the boy next to me. I'd never talked to him at the orphanage. I've never been much of a talker. But I had shared my life with him. I had played childish games with him and fallen asleep in the same room as him for my entire life.

"Only two of you will get back in that van. Who that is, is up for you to decide," he smirked, seeing the confusion on our faces. "Well? Get on with it."

Before I understood what was going on, my vision exploded into white-hot pain.

I looked up at the figure of the boy I'd known all of my life, looking down at me with his fists clenched. His face was set in a mask of determination and fear but his eyes told a different story. Even as a child I knew what those eyes were saying: _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't want to die_.

I'm pretty sure my eyes would have said the same thing had I the time to think about it.

Before that moment I'd never hit someone with intent to hurt. Sure, as a child, I had gotten into my fair share of fights. That's what happens when you're stuck in an orphanage with limited resources.

But this was different.

I bared my teeth in a primal snarl and launched myself at my former playmate. If there was any thought in my mind at that moment I'm sure it would have been along the lines of not wanting to be like the nameless boy in the snow. It wasn't that I didn't want to die—it was that I didn't want to end up like him. I didn't want to be a pathetic, cooling heap on the ground unremembered by anyone except as a source of trauma and as fuel for their nightmares.

I saw my opponent's eyes widen with shock as my fist came in contact with his stomach, winding him. I inexpertly tried to push my advantage by hitting him across his back to little effect, only managing to hurt my arm.

The crack of That Man's gun going off made both of us jump. The victor of the other match had already been decided.

Spurred on by wild panic, I pushed the other boy over while he was still trying to catch his breath from my first blow. He looked up at me as he landed on the dirt, still clutching his stomach. His eyes widened as he realised that he wasn't going to win.

I brought my foot down on those eyes, trying to stop them from looking at me. I knew I wouldn't be the one left here. It wasn't for me to be an abandoned carcass in the vast Russian wasteland. There were things I had to do.

Before I had the chance to stamp on him again, I was pushed aside by That Man and another crack echoed through the air.

I snarled at him, ignoring the now-dead boy at our feet. Fear had changed something in me and I don't think I had registered that it was over. It had maybe been a minute since we had been ordered to fight. Maybe three minutes since I had seen that first, nameless boy crumple on to the ground with his bright green hair turned dark by his own blood and brain.

In those three minutes I gave up any chance I had of being normal and learned that emotion which keeps even the most hopeless of men going: hatred.

My snarl made That Man smirk and casually swing the gun to point at my head. "Back in the van," he ordered.

I did as I was told, locking eyes with my fellow victor. They looked dead. Like whatever he had done in order to survive had killed a part of him he used to hold dear but could now no longer comprehend or even imagine.

To this day I wonder if I had the same look in my eyes.

When we arrived at our destination we were ushered into a room where we were issued with what would become our key to survival: our beyblades. Then we were separated. I'm not sure what happened to him after that. I didn't see him again after that day.

A small miracle happened then. Maybe the one redeeming part of my story. The part that makes me less of a monster and the part that gave me the ability to feel something other than that all consuming hatred.

I met Tala Ivanov, my best friend, my captain and the one thing that anchored me to my humanity in that dark, dark place.

Tala was the reason I survived that place.

When That Man saw the way I reacted to his first... test? I guess you can call it that, I think it triggered some kind of sadistic switch in his brain. He wasn't adverse to experimenting on his charges- in his mind he could always get replacements. There were no shortage of orphans desperately looking for homes in Russia.

And so I became his experiment to see how far he could push me. How vicious and animalistic I could become before I broke. I'd rather not go into details about the ways he slowly destroyed anything resembling humanity in me, torturing me until all that was left was for me to lash out and hurt others. I was out of control.

The only reason they didn't write me off as a failed experiment was Tala. Tala who would pick me up after every session, would endure any blows I managed to land before I realised who it was and would slowly teach me that even in that place there was some small vestige of humanity left.

Tala was the reason I wasn't shot like the vicious animal they had turned me into. Because of him I learned to pretend. I learned to pretend that they hadn't taken away the person I was and replaced it with violence.

_Here he paused to look at me, eyes narrowed in a calculating way. "You are the reason I survived those first few years. Without you they would have put me down like a wild animal. You gave me the ability to hide my true nature behind a __façad__e of humanity." He smiled bitterly and closed his eyes._

"_I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."_

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Please tell me what you think


	3. And Then He Happened

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Early chapter postage because I'm going on holidays for a week! Because life is amazing! I'm hoping to write a good chunk of the rest of this while I'm lazing around beside a pool (provided it's not pouring down rain. I am soo over the rain) while drinking cocktails. Wish me luck!

Big thanks to **AquilaTempestas **for being my first and (so far) only reviewer. You're awesome!

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We lived our lives like that for a while. Eventually, I learned to hit back against That Man. It was always severely punished but it was satisfying to see the way his cheek would remain discoloured or he would walk with a limp for the rest of the week.

It was probably wrong but if anyone deserved it, that man did.

And then we lost.

I'd been in the Abbey for... maybe a decade? Like I said, I don't really remember much beforehand. But while there I had not only grown close to Tala but also to Spencer and Ian. Others called us a team. They were uninformed. We were survivors.

Until we lost.

From the time we entered the Abbey to the time we were abandoned on an uninhabited Russian wasteland (very similar to the wasteland where I had been initiated into my life at the Abbey, actually. It's weird how life goes full circle on you sometimes) we had the understanding that our presence was only tolerated as long as we were strong.

Losing wasn't an option. _Especially_ not losing to an upstart team who'd never even competed in the world championships before. So when we did there was hell to pay.

And hell wasn't shy about taking its due.

To this day I'm still surprised they didn't just kill us and put us down like they had that nameless boy so many years ago. All I can think is that they didn't expect us to survive. After they were finished and that man had taken his pound of flesh—literally, I still have the scars—we were thrown out on to that wasteland to spend whatever was left of our lives freezing in the Russian winter.

Ian didn't survive that day. He didn't deserve to go that way- especially not since he didn't even get the chance to blade. He just went down with his team. Permanently.

Tala was the reason we survived then too. Despite the fact that there was probably more blood on his skin than inside it, he was the one who pulled us together after we had been abandoned. He was the one who scraped together clumps of snow and pressed it to our wounds, turning its previously untouched white a light pink.

I knew that my arm had been broken. That Man had done it himself, telling me that if I couldn't even launch a beyblade I had no use for it anyway. I couldn't move my fingers and whenever I moved it flopped at an unnatural angle and pain shot up my arm.

Mostly, however, my problems were with the cuts that now patterned my body. None of them were deep and none could compare to the bone-deep ache of my arm, but when a million superficial injuries cover your body it's pretty damn hard to ignore them.

Spencer... To this day I still don't know how Spencer survived but Ian didn't. If it wasn't for Tala's relentless drive to keep us all alive (he even managed to keep Ian going for a full day before he realised it was a hopeless cause), Spencer would probably have died within the first hour of our abandonment.

As it was, we spent days simply sitting still, huddling for warmth and trying not to aggravate out injuries. It was only on the third day, when we were nearing the point where lack of movement would kill us more surely than any kind of movement would, Tala ordered me to leave my team and find help.

So I moved.

It's only in retrospect that I remember how terrible Tala's injuries were. At the time he was our infallible captain, calmly and competently looking after us as he always had. I only realised how many patches of blood weren't from someone else and how strangely his legs were twisted under him _after_ I found help.

We recovered, though. It took us a year to get back on our feet and there will always be scars marking us and reminding us of what we had gone through but we survived. Just as we survived the Abbey.

We even started competing again. But... like before, we lost.

After losing for a second time, and to That Man's new team no less, I guess we just kind of... lost heart. We realised that we couldn't stay the way we were. Not anymore. There's only so long you can go before you realise that you need to leave the things you've always known behind and make something of your life.

And so we tried.

Tala, after so many years of looking after us and holding us together, finally did something for himself. He left us to go get himself an education so he could do something with his life.

Spencer... didn't go quite so well. He tried. I really believe he did. But I think our past was just too much for him. The last time I saw him he was busy trying to find a small slice of oblivion at the bottom of a bottle.

As for me... I was at a loss. All my life I had known violence. Violence tempered by a semblance of humanity. There aren't many professions where that's a useful trait. Hell, if it was a useful trait in beyblading I'd probably have stayed there, if only because I understood it. But somehow I don't think my one skill would have been of much use to me if I had stayed on to become a coach or something. Besides, becoming a coach would have reminded me too much of That Man and he is someone I'll be running from my entire life.

So I left as well, taking my one bag of belongings and moving back to Russia by myself.

I moved into this dump of an apartment. The walls looked like they had housed a large family of chain smokers for the past hundred years. That is, at least they did when the walls were actually intact, did I mention that the place was a dump? But I was at a stage where I didn't care where I lived. I didn't care that touching any surface in that place was likely to give me an infectious disease or that there was a funky, all-pervading smell that kind of reminded me of dead animals but also of something much _much_ worse. All I really cared about was that, for the first time in my life, I was at a loose end.

I was no longer subject to the whims and desires of That Man. I was finally free from that place. I didn't even have my team any more. I no longer had Tala. He'd left his mark, though, and I knew how to rein in the violence inside of me. Despite everything, I'm glad he never let me give in to that monster.

But I still had nothing to do.

That is, until I walked past one of those seedy notice boards—the ones that anyone is allowed to post messages on. Pasted over the notes telling me about the good times that were just a phonecall away and the hastily printed notices about rooms for let was a larger note. One that set my world on the course it is now.

_Bodyguard Wanted_

My violence wasn't the useless skill I had originally thought it to be.

So I went along to the address they'd placed at the bottom. It was in a fairly busy street near the middle of town so I wasn't too worried about it being some kind of front for a crack house or prostitution ring. Even then, if my experiences at the Abbey have taught me nothing else, they've taught me how to deal with people driven mad with drugs and pain.

I found the building easily enough, flyer held in my hand. I opened the door, glancing around.

It was quiet ... too quiet ... it was almost as if I was the only one in the entire place.

"Can I help you, sir?

...Except for her.

I looked up at the mildly pretty girl lounging at the reception desk playing with her long, dark hair. It was pulled into a messy ponytail and she was busily plaiting her loose fringe. I held up the flyer I'd been holding, explaining my presence.

She paused, looking me up and down with a sceptical expression on her tanned face, her grey eyes narrow.

I countered with a raised eyebrow. I'll admit that I'm not exactly the scariest person to look at. Something to do with the lavender hair, I think, but I'm powerfully built and a lifetime spent either fighting others off or attacking them has left me with a generous helping of muscle.

"...Have you had any experience?" She asked, finishing her inspection. "We're a freelance company. Unlike other people in the business, we only get hired when people actually think they'll need us. You'll most likely actually have to do your job rather than sit around and look menacing."

"Can I do that too? Look menacing, that is?" I asked with a small smirk. I'm pretty damn good at looking menacing when I want to be. I think that's generally because I know how to back it up.

She paused for a second, thinking about something. "Y'know I'm still not sure. Can you give me a glower? Or something?"

I sighed, seriously weighing up my options. I could already feel my hands curling up into fists and my irritation levels rising under her self-satisfied gaze. I was at a loose end but I didn't think that even finding the only career that would actually suit me was worth this. "Do you want me or don't you? I don't exactly see anyone else beating down your doors to work for this illustrious company." I glowered at her, about ready to leave.

She made a small sound that _may_ have been an 'Eep' but it was a little too high-pitched to tell. "At least you can pull out the intimidating look when you need to," she said after she discreetly checked something behind the counter, a gun I presumed. "Do you have any particular fighting style? Can you use a gun?"

"The kind that breaks bones. Yes." I answered, growing bored.

I had gone there hoping to find a job where I could unleash some of that violence. Tala had taught me how to hold it back in everyday life but I had always had my beyblading to fall back on whenever I needed to hurt something.

"Snippy." She said simply, having recovered from her... whatever you call that. She hadn't been scared, exactly, it was more that she hadn't been expecting me.

"Impatient."

She laughed. "You're going to have to work on that if you want to do this job. The kind of people who want bodyguards are normally the kind of people who will make you wait."

"Consider me Ghandi."

"He was too busy starving himself to guard anyone."

"You should have seen the other guy."

She snickered. "I like you." She scribbled down an address on a scrap piece of paper and held it out to me. "Go there tomorrow at midday. We'll have someone there to take you through your paces and we'll go from there."

I nodded and took the piece of paper from her, squinting at the almost-illegible writing. "You expect people to read this?," I asked incredulously. "Chickens write better."

She arched an eyebrow, "Chickens aren't offering you a job."

"Neither are you. I assume that if I don't meet your expectations I'll be back where I started."

"Plus a few bruises," She said happily, shrugging. "It's a tough business," she paused, considering that, then added, "literally."

"I'll see you tomorrow." I said shortly, turning to leave.

"Wait." She ordered, her voice more serious than it had been for our entire conversation... Not that that was saying much. "Name?"

"Bryan Kuznetsov. You?"

"Jelena Kozlova. It's nice to meet you."

I made a sound that may have been interpreted as agreement as I left the building.

-o-

The next day I went hunting.

Or, at least that's what it felt like. Seriously, Jelena's instructions looked like they were written in... actually, now I think on it, there aren't that many languages that have characters I can't read... Maybe Greek? But even that's kind of similar to Cyrillic...

Fuck it. Let's just say that it was illegible. Though it might have started with a four... maybe. And the scribble that was supposed to be the street looked vaguely like an abstract artist's impression of the name of the street I was walking down. Needless to say, I was hopeful.

It was nice to have some purpose in my life again.

"You found us!"

I paused in my studying of the address (I'd decided by then that the writing looked like the scribbling of an opossum on crystal meth) and looked up to see Jelena, her grey eyes sparkling at me. I turned any surprise I'd been feeling into a glare that fully expressed the migraine forming behind my eyes.

She smirked. "I can see you're in a great mood today."

"Tell me you're going to be testing my marksmanship. I need to shoot something." _Preferably you_.

I left that last part out.

Her smirk got wider and she ceremoniously opened the door of the warehouse we were standing outside. "After you, Grumblebutt."

I chose to ignore the nickname (I'd later realise this was a mistake of epic proportions but this was a more innocent time) and instead walked into the darkness of the building.

It wasn't that dark. Not really. It was just dim in comparison to the too-bright midday sun. I blinked for a few seconds as I tried to get used to the change.

My eyes adjusted just in time to see a dark _something_ making its way very quickly towards my face. I snatched it out of the air before it had the chance to do any damage and turned my migraine-fueled glare to the man who had thrown it.

He was standing in one of the dimmer parts of the warehouse with his arms folded. His dark green hair was cut short and spiky, sticking up at all angles. "Nice reflexes," he complimented, his Russian accented.

"What would have happened if I hadn't caught it?" I asked mildly, inspecting the thing I'd caught. It looked like a baton but had some impressive weight to it. In my inspection I accidentally pressed a button hidden on its smooth surface.

With a _schck_ it expanded into a staff about half my height in length.

I manage to move it in time so I wasn't hit in the face but it was a close thing. I looked up at the man with a raised eyebrow. "Really? _Really_?"

"Don't act like you didn't think that was pretty cool," he said with a smile, walking into the full light, holding a similar staff and twirling it easily in his hands. "The moment you stepped into the warehouse you started your interview, by the way," he told me calmly, still spinning the staff in his hands. Now that he was standing in the light I could see his dark blue eyes and skin that gave even _mine_ a run for its money in colourless stakes. He must have been a vampire in a past... unlife? Whatever.

"Figured, what with the missile launched at my head and all. Don't most job interviews start with two people sitting down and you asking me incomprehensible questions about my goals for life?" I asked, planting the staff on the ground and leaning on it. If it came to blows the staff wouldn't do me any good. He was clearly much more comfortable with the thing than I would ever be. Consenting to play by his rules would only have put me at a disadvantage.

He snorted, "You got Jelena to like you. That's all the interviewing I really need. This is... This is me making sure that if it came down to you and me against a roving pack of velociraptors we'd be the ones feasting on the flesh of the slain that night." He made a face. "That didn't quite come out right."

"...I hear they taste like chicken." I said, still leaning on my stick but subtly adjusting my stance, readying for an attack.

"Eaten many velociraptors in your time then?" he asked, taking note of my change in stance and adjusting his own accordingly.

"Rare delicacy. I know people."

He smirked. "I can see why she likes you," he said before he lunged, gripping the staff with both hands at one end.

I threw my staff at him, forcing him to change his grip on his weapon and deflect the missile. While he was distracted I moved quickly inside his defence and clamped one hand down on his right wrist while using my other hand to deal him a swift blow to his torso.

"Just so you know, I don't normally appreciate being greeted with an attempt to break my nose." I said levelly.

"I was aiming to break your face," he said amiably, bringing one foot down to crush my toes. "But I can see how you could get those two confused." Bastard wasn't even winded.

I swore and let go of his wrist, stepping back to regroup. I had considered wearing my steel-capped boots that day but had thought I would need the increased mobility of soft shoes. My toes were paying for my stupidity.

He smiled at me, still lazily spinning the staff. "Now what are you going to do?" He asked, casting a meaningful look at my discarded makeshift-javelin.

"I was thinking we might call it quits and maybe we could catch dinner and a show. Maybe after that we could both get manicures."

"Mu cuticles _are_ looking a little rough. They could use a bit of a touch up."

I smirked and moved quickly, reaching up to grab the end of his staff and bringing it down on to my knee with force. The impact made it snap with an almighty _crack_ and I was left holding on end of a suddenly very splintered looking staff.

He stared "_Jesus_. How did your leg not just break off?" he asked, his grip slackening on what was left of his weapon.

I shrugged and snatched the staff out of his hands before resting the sharp, splintery end of _my_ half firmly against his throat. "Strong bones." I left out the part about That Man breaking much heavier pieces of wood across my back.

He smiled and took a step back, bowing his head in acquiescence. "Do you know how to use a gun?"

"What do you want me to shoot?" I asked, looking around the warehouse. There wasn't much that would explode nicely in that place... maybe a sack of unidentifiable wheat-goods. I hear they explode.

"Judging from what you just showed me there pretty sure I can take you at your word rather than wasting ammo testing what I already know. How accurate are you?"

"If you needed a sniper, " I paused, thinking, "...Actually, If _you_ needed a sniper I'd punch you in the face."

That got a laugh. "Well that's alright then. I'm Sven."

"Bryan."

"Does Happypants here meet your stringent criteria?" Jelena asked, walking into the warehouse. I think she had been waiting for us to finish before she made her grand entrance.

"If by stringent criteria you mean if he breathes and is bigger than me so if it something went down I'd be able to hide behind him so he could do any bullet-taking? ... Then yes. I suppose he fits."

"You're too kind." I said drily

He shrugged. "Honesty is the best policy, right?"

"Better start getting _really_ honest with each other, guys. You've got your first client for a job starting next week." Jelena said helpfully, holding up a piece of paper with her... _markings_ on them- I won't compare _that_ to writing. "I've got the details written down here."

-o-

I spent the next few years... I won't say _happily_ because there was a good deal of moments when I wanted to kill Sven and a few more when I actually started to look for the knife. But those years passed _purposefully_. I'd fallen out of touch with my old life but that was okay. I had a new life where I had people who put up with my sullen moods and my tendency to break fingers before I asked questions. Not only that, they ignored the almost gleeful way I took to the job. As promised, while our clients were fucking around I was as Ghandi with my patience and tolerance. But when it came time to actually protect them... Well... I liked my job.

"Hello GrumblyWumbly! We've got another job," Jelena announced as I walked into the building. She was forever lounging around at the front desk. I don't think anyone apart from Sven and I ever actually walked through the doors. All of our clients called if they wanted our services—they were all far too important to do something as menial as walk into an office.

"Hm?" I pulled off my jacket threw it carelessly on the reception desk, ignoring the exasperated look she gave me. Jelena was forever trying to get Sven and me to her level of organisation. It wasn't ever going to happen but she was always hopeful. Her hair was pulled back into her habitual ponytail, long loose strands falling out and framing her face.

"Someone new. A male model," She smiled at the face I made, "he's paying well so you can just suck it up and deal with it."

Sven poked his head into the room, "I actually talked to him on the phone. It was weird."

Jelena raised an eyebrow. "Like talk talked? Or talked through his people talked?"

"His voice, my ears kind of talked."

Jelena whistled, impressed. "Maybe he won't be as much of a dick as—"

"—every other male model we've ever looked after?" I finished. "Why haven't you learnt to just say no whenever they call? They're _never_ worth it."

"Too self obsessed to notice they've walked into a crowd of people who are more interested in taking a bloody souvenir rather than a photograph—"

"—Too arrogant to realise that we're not there to serve their every need—" I continued smoothly. We'd gone through this spiel a few times. Male models never worked out well.

"—Too stupid to know when to duck and cover even when that's what every somewhat sane person is doing—" Sven rejoined, smirking.

"Come now. Surely we're not all that bad are we?" a voice asked, amused. I frowned, there was something familiar about that voice.

I turned and I was lost.

Teal eyes widened in surprise. "Bryan?" he asked, brushing his bright orange fringe out of the way to get a better look at me.

I stared at those eyes, drowning in them. I'd never met Brooklyn face-to-face before. Even when we had stormed BEGA in an attempt to confront That Man I hadn't seen him. Then Garland had proven why we needed to leave the sport.

I'd known him by reputation, of course. Just as he probably knew me.

He smiled an easy smile, his eyes still locked on mine. "Long time."

I stared into his eyes and I saw something I had never seen before. Not in the Abbey, not since I had left, not even with the people I considered to be my friends. I looked into his eyes and saw something that I thought I would never see in another human being.

_Recognition_.

This man whom I had only known for maybe two minutes had taken one look at me and recognised me for what I was.

More frightening, I had done the same. I'd taken one look at those eyes and seen myself hiding in those teal depths.

_Violence recognises itself_.

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Please tell me what you think :)

No, seriously, reviewing stories makes you an amazing saint-like figure full of shiny lights and sparkles, riding a unicorn over lands of promise and candy. Please review.


	4. The Bodyguard

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**Sorry about late postage. My city was hit with some pretty intense flooding over the past week and I've only just gotten power restored to my apartment ^^ Who knew something like electricity could cause so much excitement?

Anyways, I'm officially declaring my JanNoWriMo failed citing floods, lack of electricity and refugee status at my cousin's house (Though my apartment was safe, the building itself got hit and I still don't have hot water) as my reasons. Personally, I think they're three really good reasons. SO I revising my goal down to making sure I write every day. I've got almost three months worth of chapters in reserve so I should have written all new chapters well before I need them. ^^ Yay!

Fiji was amazing ^^

And I have another reviewer! Thank you **khooxp**!

**

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**

"Speak."

I looked at Sven sharply. We were raiding our weapons store, arming ourselves for our first shift guarding Brooklyn. From what Brooklyn had told us, we didn't expect there to be much trouble. The redhead was doing a shoot for a Russian magazine on behalf of one of his sponsors. There were only going to be professionals there so he didn't expect any trouble. We were there... in case. He hadn't said 'as a trial' but that was the impression that we got from his briefing. If we succeeded we would be hired for the rest of his stay in Russia.

"Bryan?" Sven asked again, prodding my shoulder with his preferred weapon, the baton/staff he'd used in our 'interview'. "Who's Brooklyn? How do you know him?"

I ignored the urge to snap his stupid baton in half. I'd already incurred the wrath of Jelena several times when I hadn't been able to keep my temper in check in the past. Apparently those things didn't come cheap. In answer to his question, I shrugged, finding my preferred weapon, a small ceramic knife, hidden underneath a pile of things that looked like they would explode with the slightest provocation. I secured the knife firmly to my forearm where I could access it easily. "Does it matter?" I asked, turning to look at Sven. "We knew of each other a few years ago when we were both professional beybladers. We never met though."

He smirked and opened another cupboard, fishing out two handguns. "I keep forgetting you were almost famous for a while there. I never followed the sport, myself. I thought it was all a little stupid" He inspected the guns closely, testing all the movable parts before tossing me one, following quickly by a clip of ammo.

I caught both easily and loaded the gun. "You never tire of telling me that, you know. It's okay, though. I think you, as a person, are stupid. That evens us out, right?" I dodged the baton launched at my head with a smirk. _Touché_.

"Are you done children?" Jelena asked, poking her head into the room. "It's not that I don't love listening to you bicker, it's just that if you're going to get to Brooklyn's hotel in time to do some basic assessment you really should have left—" she checked her clock, "—About ten minutes ago."

"Basic assessment?" Sven asked, retrieving his baton and tucking it into a hip holster he'd made especially for that purpose, "Already done. I scoped out the place yesterday. It's a high-end place that's used to dealing with celebrities so it's locked down well enough."

"Did you catch the easily-forceable lock on the maintenance door third floor up?" I asked casually, shrugging on a jacket to hide the various holsters I'd strapped over my body.

He scoffed, putting on his own jacket, "Of course. I had them install a deadbolt on the thing last night. Find the blind spot in the lobby?"

"On the south corner, behind that horrendous fake tropical plant? I hear it's a great place for employees to relieve some of their... stress from work. Speaking of, the new janitor with the criminal history?"

Sven made a dismissive gesture as we left the weapons room. "Tax evasion. Not a violent crime so we can ignore him."

"Seriously, guys, stop showing off. The only person who you stand to impress is me and I'm most emphatically _not impressed_." Jelena said as she followed us to the front of the building. "I'll be on standby here should you need me."

"We should be fine. He's just expecting us to hang around and look imposing." Sven assured her as he left, waving vaguely in her direction.

I gave her a nod before following Sven outside.

-o-

"Did you have time to check out the warehouse they're doing the shoot in?" Sven asked as we made our way up to Brooklyn's suite.

I scoffed. "Of course. I was much more impressed with the security there than I was with the hotel's." We stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.

"The dogs?" Sven asked, leaning against the wall of the elevator with a smile on his face.

"Vicious things. Almost got my leg."

The elevator _pinged_ and opened, we stepped out and walked to Brooklyn's door. I took the initiative and knocked, rolling my eyes as I heard people behind the door shuffling to answer it.

The door was yanked open fully to reveal the man we were supposed to protect, smiling happily. "Hello! You made it!"

I reached forward, lightening fast, to grab the hand on the doorknob and pulled it forward sharply, making him lose balance. I then twisted his arm behind his back painfully and raised my other hand to rest my knife gently against his neck. To his credit, he didn't even let out a cry of alarm, just watched me with huge eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Why are you answering the door?" I said quietly, loosening my hold on him and removing the knife, storing it up my sleeve again. "That's how quickly it can happen." I had only touched him in a purely professional way but I could feel every part of me that had made contact with him like I was on fire.

He took a step back, a light blush dusting his features. "I- Uh... Come in." He managed after a few seconds.

I risked a glance at his eyes and quickly looked away again when I saw the same look that had floored me the day before. He wasn't afraid. Despite the fact that I could have hurt him badly, despite the way he now held his sore arm, he wasn't afraid of my violence. Rather, some part of him had been excited by it. Some part of him had sung in harmony with it.

I stepped past him and into the room proper, banishing any thoughts like that. I heard Sven walk in behind me and Brooklyn close the door.

Sven let out a low whistle as he looked around the entryway. It was overflowing with life. Every spare surface and some not-so-spare ones were covered with plants, some native to Russia and some tropical ones that were so green it hurt your eyes to look at them. "You're a botanist?" He asked, gently lifting one plant's oversized leaf and inspecting the underside of it.

"Not at all. But I like nature. You should see my home in Japan I've got a—" he paused, thinking of the word, "—menagerie? Sorry, I'm not used to your language yet." He laughed as he led us into another, larger room that was, thankfully, plant-free where the rest of his entourage was waiting. "I didn't bring any of them here because we're only intending to be here for a few weeks and I don't like to disturb them too much. So I had my people bring in a small jungle to try and make up for it."

"I'll say." Sven said, ducking underneath the leaves of a plant that had gotten just a little _too_ friendly. He shot me a look, one that was halfway between and exasperated _models _ and _I think we have a crazy one_. I shrugged in reply. From what I had learned of Brooklyn during our past this wasn't out of the ordinary.

I was stopped short by a shorter man in a well-cut suit staring up at me with beady eyes. I looked down at him and raised an eyebrow in question. "...Yes?" I asked eventually, realising that he really was content to glare at me without giving any reason.

"You're the bodyguard?" He asked with a sneer.

"One of. Most call me Bryan, though," I turned and nodded at Sven who was wandering around the room making sure everything was clear on the pretence of admiring the plants, "My partner's Sven. Brooklyn hired us yesterday." I could feel the automatic violent response rising up inside of me. Something about his stance and air of superiority reminded me of all of those guards and scientists I'd grown up hating. I felt my hands ball into fists of their own accord.

"Against my express advice. What message does it send to the Russian people if our boy doesn't even feel safe in their country."

"It tells them that he's not an idiot." Sven said calmly, coming to stand beside me after completing his inspection. "If things go as planned we'll just be background and no one needs to know why we're here. If they don't..." He shrugged, "Let's just say that it's better that we're here for all parties. Who do we owe such a warm reception to anyway?" He asked, returning the small man's glare with a challenging look of his own.

I felt Sven squeeze my forearm as he subtly stepped between me and the other man, telling me to back off.

I let out the breath I hadn't been aware I was holding and focussed my attention on unclenching my fists, one finger at a time.

"You may call me Yamaguchi. I'm Brooklyn's manager."

Sven inclined his head, the picture of charm. "Then we're working toward the same goal, aren't we? We both need Brooklyn to remain safe and whole in order for us to do our jobs correctly. So how about we both do what we know best and we stay out of each other's way? Deal?"

Instead of answering, Yamaguchi straightened his already straight jacket and gestured to the rest of Brooklyn's entourage. "We need to get going now. Brooklyn?"

The redhead smiled and stood, dusting off his loose, white slacks. "I suppose we should get this over with, then."

Yamaguchi's expression softened a little bit as he looked over at Brooklyn. "/It's only for a few hours. Then you can go do the tourist thing which I organise the next shoot/" He said in Japanese.

Brooklyn made a face at the other. "/Always creating work for me,/" he replied before smiling. "Let's go."

By unspoken agreement, Sven lead the party out of the room while I brought up the rear, taking note of and memorising the faces of the people Brooklyn allowed into his immediate group. Also, taking note of Brooklyn's rear.

-o-

I leant comfortably against the wall of the warehouse, well out of the way of the bustle of people involved with the photo shoot. Brooklyn wasn't the only model who had been flown in for this shoot so there were about ten times as many people as I was comfortable with (Though, honestly, since I'm really only truly comfortable with maybe one person it was more like fifty times). We had been there for a few hours already, first suffering through makeup and then wardrobe. Sven and I had flipped a coin to decide who would cover the front and who would have the illustrious duty of Brooklyn-watch.

I had won the toss and, remembering the viciousness of those dogs, had chosen to stay inside.

I was regretting that decision heartily. There is only so much tedium one person can put up with before the urge to break things becomes too great to ignore.

I had settled with stealing a serviette from the catering table and was busily shredding it into tiny pieces as I watched the group of models follow the instructions of the photographer. I smirked as the wind machine they'd set up was accidently turned up a notch too high, making one of the male models cop a mouthful of another model's hair.

It wasn't all terrible though. To be honest, I was quite enjoying myself (though I'd never admit that to Sven). If I ignored all of the hustle of the photo shoot and instead concentrated on the man who'd caught my interest it became all worth it.

Though I'd never really met Brooklyn during our Beyblading days I'd most certainly heard of him- who hadn't? Being such an amazing prodigy and then almost destroying the world tends to make someone kind of memorable.

But try as I might, I couldn't reconcile the Brooklyn I'd known through reputation only with the handsome young man who was playfully posing with a classically beautiful blonde, trying to attack her with a long stemmed rose he'd stolen from somewhere. She was giggling, trying to swat the rose away from her face.

But there was no denying the violence I'd seen in those eyes when we'd met. That violence that sang in harmony with mine.

"Magic, isn't it?" a voice next to me asked.

I looked across—then down—to see Yamaguchi watching Brooklyn with a proprietary gleam in his eyes. "Hm?" I asked, more for the sake of politeness than out of any desire to hold a conversation with the man. I'd already decided from his reaction to Sven and me at Brooklyn's apartment that I'd never like this man. He did seem genuinely interested in Brooklyn's wellbeing, however.

He nodded toward Brooklyn and the other model, Brooklyn had now abandoned the rose and looked like he was attempting to tickle her to death. "Brooklyn. How he can go from his normal not-all-there self and become so captivating on film. Magic."

I made a noncommittal noise, still watching the pair. "How did he get into this?"

Yamaguchi looked at me for a second before memory brought a light of realisation to his eyes. "That's right, Brooklyn mentioned something about you also competing in the Beyblading circuit way back when."

I snorted. "It was only a few years ago, hardly way back when," I reproached. "Last I saw of Brooklyn, he was recovering from the aftermath of his battle with Tyson. How did he get here?"

"I'm excellent at my job. That's what happened."

I smirked, "Informative."

"I do try," Yamaguchi said with an answering smirk. "I happened to catch that match on television and I couldn't tear my eyes away from Brooklyn—"

"—Creepy," I noted, offhandedly. Though, after watching him with that model I was starting to have the same kind of problem.

He chose to ignore me. "I called him the next day. After everything I think he wanted to take a bit of a break from beyblading. My call came at the right time. The rest is just history, I think," He shrugged, looking up at me. "How'd you get into the bodyguard business?"

I answered his shrug with one of my own. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. Why did Brooklyn seek us out? There doesn't seem to be a bodyguard on his personal staff. Is there something that's been making him uneasy?"

Yamaguchi barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "We've been receiving some threatening letters since Brooklyn got his big break in Japan. It hasn't been anything serious but it's had him worried and he's been a little distracted," he paused for a second, thinking about that, "_more_ distracted than normal."

I smirked as something else caught Brooklyn's attention and he left the blonde, wandering over to sling his arm around the shoulders of another male mode—the same one who'd been unfortunate enough to be in the wind machine's line of fire. Brooklyn put his lips close to the other's ear and whispered something that made the other first pull back to look at the redhead in surprise, then laugh.

"What did the letters say? I know that Brooklyn's not exactly the most all together person around but he can take care of himself. You saw that last battle, _you know_," I let out a little sigh of relief as the photographer, finally satisfied with the final product, called an end to the photo shoot. Everyone in the warehouse sagged a little, tension leaving the place completely.

I felt a piece of paper being pressed into my hand. "You judge for yourself. I don't think it's serious but the fact that Brooklyn sourced you out despite my assurances means he's worried," Yamaguchi left the wall and moved easily through the crowd until he stood next to Brooklyn, complimenting him on a job well done.

I shoved the letter into my pocket to look at later and fished my phone out in the same movement. I had Sven on speed dial so I pressed a few buttons and brought the phone to me ear.

"_Yes?"_ He sounded peeved.

"They're wrapping up. You can come inside now." I said simply.

"_I hate you. I hate dogs. I hate winter. I hate—"_

I hung up on Sven's manifesto of hatred, smirking to myself. I remembered why I'd chosen to guard Brooklyn inside the building. Despite the tedium of watching a photo shoot come together detail by painful detail there was nothing that could compare to the boredom of sitting outside in the cold without any clear idea of when your torture would end.

Brooklyn emerged from the dressing room, all makeup gone and back in his decidedly less trendy but much more comfortable looking white ensemble he'd been wearing at the hotel.

He made a beeline towards me, easily dodging the chaos that surrounded him and moving with an almost unearthly grace. He smiled as he reached me, "You look like you've just gone through some kind of particularly painful medical exam."

"What a coincidence. I feel like it too," I deadpanned, uncrossing my arms and pushing myself off the wall. "Are we done?"

He laughed, "pretty much. But I wanted to go outside for a little while after this and see what there is to see. I was wondering if you and Sven would like to accompany me?" He waved a dismissive hand at the rest of the rabble, "everyone else is going to be busy this afternoon in the aftermath so I don't have anyone else to go with. Besides, it'd be good to have local guides."

Sven pushed his way through the crowd with none of the grace Brooklyn had shown earlier, preferring to force his way through the mass of people rather than dodge them. "What's up?" he asked as he reached us.

Brooklyn quickly explained the situation while I discreetly checked the condition of my partner.

I hid my smirk when I noticed the torn legs of his pants. The dogs must have gotten a little too close for comfort.

Sven frowned, thinking. "Unfortunately I've got an appointment later today." At my questioning look her shrugged, "Remember that insufferable Richbitch we looked after last week? The brunette? She's asked us to do a security check on the venue she's holding her next fundraiser at. I can do it by myself, though."

Thank God, really. We had only spent about four hours with the heiress Sven was talking about but by the time we had left I was seriously contemplating exploiting the weak points in her security system in order to break into her room and strangle her with a power cord.

"So if I go and do that you can stay here and accompany Brooklyn? It'll give you two some time to catch up."

I nodded my agreement. "If you don't mind, though, I'll leave now and meet you at your hotel in two hours. I need to get changed and I've got a few things to do."

Brooklyn grinned. "That's perfect, actually. It'll take me about that long to convince them that they really can do the work they need to do without worrying about me."

"Good. Sven would have already checked your car," I looked over to get a nod of confirmation of the green-haired man, "and the route you're taking is a safe one so I think we're pretty much done here. I'll see you in a few hours." I raised one hand in farewell before strolling away, not waiting for Brooklyn to react.

I heard Sven murmur something to Brooklyn before he jogged to catch up. "That was... abrupt." He commented as we stepped outside the warehouse. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I shrugged, hunching my shoulders against the cold. "It looks like this might be more than just a normal guard duty. Yamaguchi said that Brooklyn's been receiving threatening letters that have him worried. I wanted a few hours between now and then to have a look at the letter. I pulled it out of my pocket to have it snatched out of my hands by my partner.

He clicked his tongue as he read it. "Do you know if they kept the envelope?" he asked, studying the paper.

I shrugged again as we reached our car, a beaten up old thing we'd picked up the year before with the promise that 'It will go most of the time and sometimes there even might be heating'. "Yamaguchi didn't mention anything."

"I'll follow this up while you're out with Brooklyn, then."

I raised an eyebrow and looked at Sven, "I thought you had that security check to do?"

"I lied." Sven handed me the note and got into the driver's seat.

I opened the note, rolling my eyes at Sven. My exasperated expression turned quickly to a frown as I read the letter, the words made out of magazine letters painstakingly cut out in the style of all good ransom notes.

_I know the real you._

_I am coming.

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DUN DUN DUN

Please tell me what you think

STILL looking for a beta. We're now entering into territory that I've edited by myself. Scary, jungle-filled territory._  
_


	5. Sightseeing With the Devil

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **-points upwards- I have a beta! Yay! Big thanks to **Just An Inkling** for being awesome, giving up her time and putting up with me.

* * *

I waited in the lobby with my arms folded, staring into the middle distance. It's not that I wasn't grateful to Sven for giving me the chance to talk to Brooklyn alone in the guise of doing my job. After watching him for so long in the warehouse there was nothing I wanted to do more than get to know the other a little better.

At the same time, Brooklyn represented everything I didn't want to be reminded about.

It had been hard leaving my old life. It had been harder leaving my team behind. After we parted I'd done my best to disappear. I'd forced myself to lose Tala's number and to make no effort to find Spencer. Even now, after everything, I'd still rate that as one of the hardest things I've ever done. But it was necessary. If I had continued being a part of their lives I would have served as a constant reminder of the nightmare we'd all escaped from. It was better that I disappear and let them live their own lives.

So I'd stayed put and I'd avoided any reminders of my old life. I'd taken my beyblade, the one that had ensured my survival through those dark years, and thrown it into the icy cold of the Baltic Sea. I have to admit I was a little disappointed at the anticlimactic way it simply disappeared under the surface. There was no clap of thunder, no huge wave originating from that spot, no kraken keeping from the water to punish me. Nothing. After I'd thrown it away, the sea remained as calm as ever, mocking me and asking if I really thought I'd make _that_ much of a difference.

I couldn't bring myself to throw away my bit chip, however. I never intended to unleash Falborg on the world again but I couldn't simply throw away the bitbeast who had lived through my hell with me and who appreciated and fed off my violence. Unlike the other remnants of my life, Falborg didn't have the ability to move beyond our shared life. So I kept him close, always tucked in a pocket of my pants or on the table where I kept all the other things I couldn't leave the house without. I carried Falborg like I carried all of my other scars.

"I'd hate to interrupt a good brood..." Brooklyn smiled as my eyes focussed on him. I'd been too busy thinking to notice him standing right in front of me. Some hyper-observant bodyguard I was.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, pushing myself off the wall and tucking my hands into my pockets.

He shrugged. "As I'll ever be. Everyone's busy and I'm sitting around the room like a useless lump," he smiled at my sceptical expression, "it never ceases to amaze me how much work goes around this whole modelling thing. All I have to do is show up and pout a bit." He made face, "That, and eat some truly disgusting food. Seriously, you should see this new health shake Ken's got me on—"

"—Ken?" I asked as we stepped out of the nice, warm lobby into the bitter cold of the outside.

"Yamaguchi," Brooklyn clarified, "The shake is this weird green colour and Ken refuses to tell me what's in it."

"Never a good sign," I said agreeably, still a little shocked that Yamaguchi had a first name. "Do you know where you want to go? There's not much to see here I'm afraid. You picked a bad town to come to for sightseeing."

"Not if I want to sightsee at a coffee shop where they sell chocolate cake covered with cream and they still ask you if you want _extra _cream on the side," Brooklyn said with an impish grin. "I did an extra twenty minutes in the gym this morning so _Ken will_ _never know_."

I looked at Brooklyn, gauging how serious he was. The look he had on his face was frightening. It was the half-starved, half-crazed look of a man who had lived without anything sugary for too long. "Okay."

He blinked, a look of shock crossing his features. "Okay?" He asked.

I looked at him. "Yeah. I know a place that's maybe three blocks from here. We'll go there." I turned and began walking toward the shop.

"You're not going to try and stop me? Tell me about how I'm going to get fat and ruin my career and everyone else's?"

I paused and turned to look at him with a disbelieving look on my face, "I'm not your mother. Nor do I much care if you destroy your career. That said, it's one cake. As long as you don't make a habit of it, it's not going to make a difference." I turned back and continued walking.

That meant I didn't have any warning before something warm and heavy slammed into my back.

On instinct I twisted and seized the shoulder of my attacker, yanking him forward and pushing down, forcing him on to his knees. I changed my grip so I held his right arm and kept pressure on his shoulder with my other hand, ready to dislocate his arm if need be.

I paused when I recognised the orange hair of my assailant. "Uh..." I let go and stepped back sheepishly, "Sorry. Automatic reaction."

Brooklyn stood slowly, holding his shoulder and rotating it gingerly. "I'd hate to see you when you're serious," he said with a good-natured smile.

"Most people never do. And the ones that do don't see me for long." I said with a shrug. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He shrugged, wincing belatedly at the movement. "I should have known not to rush you from behind. What I _was_ going to say was thank you. Also, let's go get some cake!"

-o-

Brooklyn ate his cake like someone who would never eat a cake again for the rest of their days. He used his fork to take the tiniest sliver from the cake—so small I swore he couldn't taste it at all—and would put it in his mouth, closing his eyes and savouring it like some rare delicacy.

For your information, no, I wasn't intentionally perving. There just wasn't that much to look at in the cafe apart from his slow, sensual, downright pornographic way of eating.

"You haven't touched yours yet."

I blinked and realised the object of my cake-related fantasies was talking to me. "I..." I tried, unsure of what to say. What does one say to the object of their nasty, nasty fantasies while they look at you with the fork dangling from their lips and a questioning look in their far-too-canny teal eyes.

Brooklyn took the fork out of his mouth and pointed with it. "Your cake. You haven't touched it yet."

I looked down at the fairly innocuous looking cake sitting n the table in front of me. When we'd arrived at the coffee house I'd let Brooklyn order first. Predictably, he's chosen the cake with the most chocolate, the most icing and the most ridiculous name.

Something along the lines of Chocolate Whippington Palatial Bakeaganza.

Or similar.

Taking pity on the cashier who was staring at Brooklyn in a mixture of fear and awe after he asked for extra cream and ice cream on top of his sugary monstrosity, I ordered a nice, plain carrot cake. Not fancy, I'll grant you, but it seemed to calm her down and give her back some faith that not everyone in this world was insane.

Brooklyn poked my cake, a look of distaste on his features. "Carrot cake doesn't count as a cake, you know."

"Oh?"

"Carrots are vegetables," He said primly, "vegetables have no business being anywhere near a cake."

"Is fruit cake acceptable?" I asked, amused despite myself.

He paused, thinking about that. "It depends..."

"How so?"

"Well... Say that you had a fruit cake like the kind they make for Christmas and wedding cakes. They don't count as cakes either. Only in Western culture could they come up with something so patently disgusting and label it as 'traditional' and thus force people to make it _every single year_"

I nodded, poker face in place.

"On the other hand, take an apple and cinnamon cake. _Clearly_ it contains some element of health because apples are supposed to frighten doctors into submission. However, the cinnamon and accompanying sugar that surrounds the apple negates the health factor and brings the cake back into acceptable cake limits."

"...You've thought about this too much." I said, no sarcasm in my voice.

He shrugged, taking another wafer-thin slice of his cake and popping it in his mouth with a little sigh of delight. "Not really. I've just had a lot of time to think about these things while Ken rambles on about the importance of healthy eating and how I can't always rely on my metabolism to keep me at an acceptable size for my job."

I looked Brooklyn up and down—as much as I could while we were both seated at a table. If possible, he had actually lost weight since his beyblading days when he had already been improbably slender. "How'd you get into this anyway?" I asked, curious. "Yamaguchi told me his side of the story but I have a hard time believing that you gave up blading just like that."

Brooklyn looked away, resting his head on his hands. "Why not?" He asked, his eyes challenging. "It's not like I ever chose beyblading. I just happened to be good at it. It was time for a change."

"But to modelling? You're good at it but it didn't look like you were enjoying yourself out there."

"Story of my life." Brooklyn reached out and stole my coffee from in front of my plate. He took a sip before looking down at it with delight. "What's in this? It's delicious!"

"Two shots of caramel," I said, amused at the change in subject. "That and a small mountain of sugar."

"So I'm not the only one with the sweet tooth?" He asked, looking at me with a small conspiratorial grin.

I smirked. "Only when it comes to coffee. My dentist would have a fit otherwise."

"So why are you doing this bodyguard thing?" He asked suddenly, keen eyes fixed on mine. I had the uncomfortable feeling that those eyes didn't miss much. Even when Brooklyn was at his most distracted it was impossible to forget that behind those eyes hid a genius. "I'm not going to lie and say you're not good at it," he shrugged his injured shoulder sheepishly, "but it seems like a bit of a drastic career change."

"How well did you know That Man?" I asked, pausing and reviewing my sentence when I received a confused look from Brooklyn. "I mean... Boris." I hated using That Man's name. Every time I thought it or, worse, spoke it aloud I felt like the lights had dimmed. Even his name could affect my surroundings and drench them with fear.

Brooklyn shrugged. "He recruited me but he gave me over to Hiro before I got to know him too well. He seemed nice enough—a bit creepy but nothing too drastic." Brooklyn looked at me, "Why?"

I looked away, afraid that those perceptive eyes would see something I didn't want them to see. "No reason. Boris raised me... Me and the rest of the Blitzkrieg Boys. If you'd known him a bit better you'd probably understand that doing something like this isn't that much of a stretch."

Brooklyn nodded absently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. He reached over and stole my cup again, drinking from it. "I'm definitely going to be getting this next time we come here."

I smirked. "Next time?" I questioned. It wasn't that I hadn't enjoyed this outing. There was something deliciously exhilarating about spending my time staring at Brooklyn's dirty-thoughts-inducing eating habits while I was supposed to be working. That, combined with the thought of Yamaguchi's face should he ever find out where we'd been was enough to make me wish we could escape like this every day.

"Next time." Brooklyn said firmly, giving up on any pretence of only stealing sips from my drink and holding it possessively underneath his chin. His eyes dared me to say anything.

I didn't accept the dare, however. Instead, I opted to reach over and steal his drink, smirking at the look of surprise that crossed his features.

Brooklyn dipped his head, acknowledging a game well played. "We're definitely coming back here before I have to leave. That cake was too damn delicious to taste only once."

"I'm surprised your teeth haven't all fallen out just now from you saying that."

He laughed, the sound drowning out all of the other sounds of the busy cafe. It was possibly the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. Both loud and confident and yet smooth and melodious. If there was a soundtrack in heaven, for me, it would be that laugh.

"How long are you going to be here?" I asked curiously, calmly sipping Brooklyn's drink. At least he'd opted for a less sugary beverage, maybe trying to make up for the cake monstrosity. It was a straight black coffee with no added sugar. Thankfully, I'd gotten used to the taste over the past year. Sven never added anything to his coffee. He said it was something ingrained into him after spending years in public service. He'd never volunteered details about his time there and I'd never asked.

Brooklyn shrugged, resting my cup on the table, his eyebrows drawing together in thought. "It depends on if Ken can find some random freelance work for me to do. I've got a few more things to do for the same label you saw today." He wrinkled his nose. "I know I've got to do something to do with a shopping centre but I'm not sure when. I hate those things."

I blinked, surprised. "_You_ hate those things? Have you ever tried securing one an event like that? Do that and _then_ we'll talk about hatred, okay?"

He flushed. "I forgot." He paused, thinking, "that really would be a pain wouldn't it? Open to the public with no real place for me to go that's completely secure."

I groaned. "Not to mention that the whole _idea_ is that everyone can see you and get to you. It's terrible."

"...Do you think it'll be okay?"

I looked up sharply at the change in tone. The conversation had taken a turn for the serious. I frowned as I remembered the words of the not Yamaguchi had given me.

_I know the real you._

_I am coming._

They sounded like the words of any random crackpot, to be honest. But Brooklyn wasn't the paranoid type. Nor was he an idiot. And those words had scared him enough to seek out protection.

"I'm going to be there along with Sven and Jelena. You'll be fine." I assured him, making a note to get the particulars of the event from Yamaguchi when I took Brooklyn back to the hotel room. "You only finished saying a little while ago that you'd hate to see me serious. Look at me."

Teal eyes looked up to meet mine.

"I'm serious."

Brooklyn's face broke into a smile. "I knew there was a reason I hired you."

"Apart from our offices being the closest to your hotel?"

"Apart from that."

I smirked and raised Brooklyn's drink in salute, "To laziness"

He raised his eyebrows and raised his drink in reply, "To fate."

-o-

"Why is it so cold in Russia?" Brooklyn asked, watching the steam from his breath rise with fascination. "I mean, seriously, it should be illegal."

I smirked. "I'll get the lawyers on that immediately. Suing the weather sounds like it might be fun for them."

"Lawyers are weird."

"They make their own fun. Can't blame them for that."

"And how do you make your own fun, Bryan?" Brooklyn asked, looking up at me with a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Brooklyn reminded me gently, leaning against my arm as we walked. "What do you do for fun? Considering the weather I doubt it's anything outdoorsy... unless you're one of those crazy extreme winter sports types."

I scoffed. "Not likely. Have you seen the costumes those guys have to wear? Spandex isn't my thing."

Brooklyn gave me a onceover. "It most certainly could be, though."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"I spend my days judging people based on their bodies so... yes. I guess you could say that that's my considered professional opinion. You still haven't answered my question."

I sighed, "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." I said, trying to ignore how aware I was of the way he leant against me. I could feel his body heat through the sleeve of my jacket.

He smirked and tapped the side of his head, "Like a steel trap," he told me. "So? What does the great Bryan Kuznetsov, ex-blader, bodyguard extraordinaire do with his spare time for fun?"

"Not much, too busy being extraordinary, obviously," I said smugly as we rounded the corner on to the street Brooklyn's hotel was on. "What about you? Or does sneaking out and getting illicit sugar hits about top your Richter scale of fun?"

He made a face. "Honestly?"

I nodded. "You could always lie but there wouldn't be much point in it."

"Honestly, this is the most fun I've had for a long time. Ken normally keeps me too busy to get out like this. Normally every day is filled. I think he knew I was starting to get sick of the life so we came here." He wrinkled his nose, "There are still things to do here but nowhere near as much as back home."

"Do you still Beyblade?" I asked, stopping a few buildings away from the hotel.

"Every now and again. But there's no challenge in it and, now that I'm not competing, there's no point." He shrugged, "so now I do this."

"Speaking of, you should probably get back in there before Yamaguchi has a small fit. It's getting dark and he'll be worried that I've kidnapped you," I said gently.

Brooklyn smirked, "Nah, he knows what I'm like. If we didn't return all night he'd be worried. Until then he'd probably assume I'd seen some rare animal and was following it."

"Likely?"

He shrugged. "It depends how rare. That said, if any animals were willing to brave this weather I'd probably follow them just to see how insanity works in their species." He sighed as he looked at the doors of the hotel. "If I ran away do you think they'd care that much?"

I looked down at him, noting the slightly forlorn expression that had come over his face as he spoke. "Hm?"

"I know Yamaguchi would care... at least for a little while. But I'm only his flavour of the month. He dumped his previous client for me after he saw me on TV. Nothing stopping him from finding someone better." He shook himself, whether to rid himself of his thoughts or because of a particularly frosty gust of wind was unclear. He smiled a smile that was as much full of pain as happiness. "Don't mind me. I'm just thinking out loud."

"I'd hate to see in there then," I said, using one finger to brush a stray wisp of orange hair off his face. "It must be an interesting place."

"You have no idea," he smiled. I didn't realise how true his words were until much _much_ later. "Thank you for listening to me," he said with a smile, "you're not as scary as they always made you out to be."

"They?"

"The others at BEGA- the ones who knew you back when you were at the Abbey."

I made a dismissive sound, "bunch of pussies anyway. If _they_ were telling you the story they probably found every one of us frightening."

Brooklyn laughed, that sound I would never get tired of hearing. "True enough." He said, a small shadow behind his eyes. "But, for serious now, thank you. I needed this."

He stood on his toes and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. It was only the barest, briefest touch of lips to skin but I felt my entire body burn in response. I looked at him in surprise, a question in my eyes. "Brooklyn..."

He had already turned away and was within metres of the door to his warm hotel. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bryan." He said over his shoulder before he disappeared into the hotel.

I stood dumbly for a few seconds, fingers touching my cheek. My mind was working at overdrive. I knew that I couldn't do this. In my profession there was really only one rule: don't get too attached to any of your clients. It made it that much harder to accept any security risks you had to let through in the course of your job. It made it that much harder when you failed at your job.

You can't get attached to your client, neither as a friend nor as something more.

But as I stood there in the bitter Russian wind, my fingers touching the spot on my cheek where he had scorched me with his kiss, I felt something inside me being to unfurl for the first time in my life. It blossomed slowly in my chest, filling my body with a kind of warmth no jacket had ever been able to give me.

It bloomed. And began to sing

* * *

Please tell me what you think


	6. Denial Be My Friend

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

* * *

"So it went well then?"

I looked at Sven with alarm, trying to gauge if he knew anything. "Hm?" I asked, running a hand through my hair. It was almost time to get it cut again. I always left it just a little too long between trims but it was getting ridiculous.

"Your... sightseeing with Brooklyn. Where did you go?" Sven asked with much more tact than I'd ever given him credit for.

I shrugged, taking off my jacket and beginning the long process of disarming myself. "It's not like there was much to see so we ended up staying at a coffee shop and eating cake." A small smirk crossed my face as I remembered the sugary extravaganza Brooklyn had termed as 'cake'. "We caught up."

I only just caught Sven's muttered "I'll bet." but chose to ignore him as I unstrapped the sheath that kept my favourite knife securely against my forearm. "Unlike you, I actually spent my afternoon doing work," He said rather smugly.

"I worked," I defended myself. "I took him to a secure location and made sure to return him unharmed. That's the definition of our job isn't it?" I looked at Sven, daring him to contradict me. After all, it wasn't like I'd done anything wrong. I'd definitely contemplated it, sure, but, in reality, all that had happened was Brooklyn had kissed me on the cheek. Hardly something to get worked up about.

Sven held up the letter. "I have some friends back from the old days who spent the afternoon helping me go over this—"

"—So when you say that you did work you really mean you enlisted people smarter than you to do your job" I interrupted with a smirk.

"I worked by providing snacks. No mean feat when you consider how pedantic and demanding those types are," Sven said indignantly before returning to his story. "The only fingerprints on the thing are all probably from Brooklyn's entourage. This guy seems a little too organised to do something so sloppy as leave his fingerprints everywhere. Interestingly, though, based on the fonts and colouring of the letters used we've narrowed down the magazine he used to make up the letter. A small publication called Beyblade Monthly—doubt you've heard of it."

I snorted. Beyblade Monthly was the rather unimaginatively titled magazine that covered the sport's professional league with articles both about the players and the equipment they used. The last time I'd paid attention, I'd heard that it had a small but rather dedicated circulation base. It had declined a little after Tyson had given up his crown as World Champion but it was still going. They had even once done a piece on the Blitzkrieg Boys. That had been an uncomfortable day filled with many pregnant silences and glares as the hapless reporter repeatedly ignored our request that she refrain from talking about our time as the Demolition Boys (As a small side note, who came up with our team names? Seriously). "I may have read it once or twice," I said in a bored tone.

Sven smirked, "Anyway, we haven't narrowed it down to the issue yet but we think we're on to a winner. It must be someone who remembers Brooklyn from his beyblading days."

"It'll be something of a recent thing then," I said, taking the note, looking a little tattered from too many people paying too much attention to it. "Brooklyn only entered the professional scene during the Justice Five tournament and disappeared quickly after that. There was only a narrow window when he was in the public eye as a beyblader."

"See? This is why we keep you here. So we can exploit your useless and obscure knowledge whenever we get a weird case," Sven said, leaning against the wall of the weapons store, ignoring that there were maybe fifteen different weapons all capable of doing serious damage all within a few centimetres of him.

I rolled my eyes and took out my gun, unloading it and cleaning it quickly before putting it away. "Tell me one case where we've exploited your even more useless knowledge," I asked as, having finished, I left the weapons room.

He shrugged and followed me out of the room, a small smile on his face. "I know people. I don't need knowledge."

"Big words." I said, looking around the empty reception area. Jelena had left hours ago. "Do you know what we're doing tomorrow?"

"Why? Date plans with Brooklyn?"

I turned to glare at Sven, putting as much poison as I could muster into it. "We didn't go on a date."

"You went out to coffee. You talked. You've come back here much less grumpy than you normally are and I swear that that pink hue you've got going there isn't from the cold." Sven said with an evil grin. "Bryan had a daate."

"It. Was. Not. A. Date." I ground out, disappointed when Sven pointedly removed Jelena's stapler out of my reach. "Brooklyn needed to get out for a while. I was as good an excuse as any. End of story."

"Yes," Sven said seriously, "That would explain why I received a phone call almost immediately after Brooklyn got back into the hotel room. Yamaguchi wants to hire us for the rest of Brooklyn's stay in Russia and he's paying us a boatload of money to do it—I mean, seriously, the amount of money he's paying us is ridiculous." Sven shrugged. "But who am I to comment on how other people use their riches? The point is that as of tomorrow we have no other jobs other than keeping your boyfriend out of the clutches of Crazy Fan Man," he waved the letter pointedly. "Sounds like fun, yes?"

I sighed. "First. He's not my boyfriend. Second. What happens to our other clients? Won't we be alienating them? Especially the semi-regular ones? Third. He's _not_ my boyfriend." I ticked off each point on my hand, making sure to emphasise the first and third ones with meaningful glares.

Sven waved a dismissive hand. "I'll source replacements for us for our regular clients—that's not an issue. If he's not your boyfriend, why are you almost popping a vein in your temple trying to convince me otherwise? Signs of a guilty conscience."

I threw up my hands and opted for the haughty-storm-out comeback. Sometimes there is no reasoning with people and all you can do is let your scornful silence do the talking.

"I knew it!"

...Alternatively sometimes the haughty storm out can further convince people of their delusions. I turned to glare at Sven, daring him to continue with his theory.

"One question, Bryan." Sven's voice abruptly switched from the teasing lightness of my almost-friend to the serious voice of professionalism.

"I can still do my job. He's not my boyfriend." _He's more. He's me. He's the other part of myself I never knew I was missing_

Sven made a small noise. "If you lose perspective would you tell me?"

"No," I said honestly, "but I'd take myself off the case and give you a patently bullshit reason as to why I can't do it anymore."

"As long as we're clear about that."

I nodded curtly before leaving. I'd only met Brooklyn properly for the first time today. I'd only talked to him for a few hours. And already I knew I was in trouble. Our conversation hadn't moved much beyond small talk—both Brooklyn and I had deftly avoided talking about our pasts too much—but I knew, or some primal part of me knew that I wouldn't be, couldn't be, the same without Brooklyn in my world.

-o-

I stared at the building Brooklyn was scheduled to visit in the next hour, a look of disbelief in my eyes. I couldn't believe it. _This_ was what I had to work with? _This_ was where they expected people who had celebrity status to go when they were looking for odd jobs?

It almost defied belief.

No, in fact, it did defy belief. My belief and faith in the human race were definitely defied.

The building's front was made of glass. _Glass._ This meant that not only could anyone look inside and first scope out their target's location but they could also look and find any security systems they'd have to negotiate in order to achieve their goals.

Not that the system was much to get worked up over, mind you.

An old man sat at the front desk, dressed in a suit that had maybe fit a decade ago but now hung loosely from his shoulders, getting looser and looser as age robbed him of muscle mass. I had no doubt that he was hiding a gun underneath that desk but, from the looks of him, that gun was as much a danger to the old man as to anyone who wanted to get past him.

I could see three cameras from my position across the street and, from their locations, could extrapolate the positions of two more cameras out of my sight. Their configuration was neither particularly imaginative nor very good. While it would be difficult for a layman to walk through the lobby and remain unseen by the cameras, it wasn't impossible for anyone who knew how.

I had no doubt that, behind those cameras were several old men, equal in threat to the one who'd only just noticed my undue attention to the front of his building.

In their favour, they didn't advertise their status as a high-end modelling agency. If you believed the sign out the front, I was looking at the front of a place that specialised in advertising and graphic design.

...Not far from the truth, now I think of it. They get a few extra points because it's always best to couch lies in truth.

Not many points, though.

"Hey, you!" The old man had actually left the building to confront me across the street. Minus any points I'd been generous enough to give.

"Are you an idiot?" I asked, taking his upper arm and steering him into the building. "_Never_ leave your post. _Never_."

He shook me off with surprising strength for a man his age. "Get your hands off me," he glowered at me in the way only an old man can. "Why have you been standing outside for so long?"

"You noticed?" I asked mockingly, reaching underneath his desk and retrieving the gun underneath it without looking. "I was afraid you were both blind _and_ dumb." I checked the gun and let out a sound of scorn. "It's not even clean!" I unloaded it and pressed the gun to the old man's chest. "How do you expect to stop anyone who intends harm with that?"

His eyebrows shot up, outrage and confusion written all over his face. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm Brooklyn Masefield's bodyguard. He' going to be visiting your fine facility in about half an hour and I came to see what level of security you've got. I wasn't expecting to be _quite_ so disappointed."

He spluttered, outrage taking over any sharp replies and retorts he was thinking of. "W-What? Get out of my building!"

"Not before we deal with some of the bigger issues," I said, my mind working quickly Brooklyn was going to be in the building in less than an hour. That limited my options. "First, you're going to go get a suit that fits." I handed him a small wad of money—courtesy of Yamaguchi for 'any expenses you may have on the field'. "Half of this game is appearances. At the moment you just look like a sad old man who's seen too many years to do much damage."

I caught the punch in my right hand and sighed, raising my eyebrow at him, "And you punch like a ninety-year-old lady." I said with maybe a touch more cruelty than was necessary. "Go get a suit. I saw a place across the road and a few doors to the left. You won't be able to get anything custom fitted in the time we've got but it'll be better than what you've got on now." Up close, the suit was not only ill fitting but also starting to wear at the seams. It should have been thrown away years ago.

"_Go_. If you have any complaints you can call my supervisor." I handed him Sven's card, keeping the smirk off my face when I thought of Sven's reaction to his sudden promotion over me. "I'll look after the place while you're gone."

He suddenly got a very prim look over his features, "You just said before that I wasn't to leave my post."

Of all the times to be a stubborn old man. I refrained from facepalming and from returning his punch with one of my own. "You're not leaving it unprotected. I'm relieving you. It's not like you were doing much good here anyway."

He made an outraged noise and reached into his pocket to fish out his mobile phone, punching in the numbers with a vengeance. He put the phone to his ear, his face turning an interesting shade of plum as his temper rose further and further.

Choosing to ignore him, I looked up, noting that the two cameras that were hidden from the outside were exactly where I'd guessed they'd be. It was both surprising and deeply depressing that the men behind the cameras hadn't come out of hiding.

The old man hung up the phone, face more sunk in fury than before. I guess Sven had given him a lecture. He marched over to his desk, flipped through a little Rolodex, and began punching in another number.

At least he wasn't a complete amateur then. I would have recommended that he be fired instantly if he had left his post based on my word and the word of someone on the other end of a phone number I'd given him.

"Yamaguchi?" he asked. I tuned out again, confident that no matter how mutual our dislike was, Brooklyn's manager would trust that I knew how to do my job.

I pulled the old man's chair from behind his desk and placed it underneath the first camera, unable to keep the sneer of my face when I saw the well-worn dint in the chair's padding where the old man had planted himself for hours and not bothered to move.

I heard him hang up with a snap and looked over my shoulder at him with a smug look. "Are you ready to go get a suit now?" I asked mildly. "If it makes you feel any better you'll be spending Yamaguchi's money."

The man spun on his heel and _stormed_ out of the building. Honestly, I don't think I've seen anyone pull off quite so impressive a storm. Everything else I've ever seen has been maybe a light drizzle in comparison to his tropical cyclone of rage, humiliation and hatred all bundled up into one walk.

I shrugged and went back to my task, adjusting the camera slightly to stop it from overlapping so much with its neighbour and eliminating a blind spot. I did the same for all of the cameras in the lobby, pausing after I'd finished to admire my handiwork. Now no one could get through the lobby without being seen by the cameras.

Speaking of—I paused when I realised that no one from the security room had come to question my presence.

The old man came back in through the door, now in a well-fitting black suit. It made him look at least ten years younger and gave the impression of muscle and strength—something that was much more important than actually having either of those things. He squirmed in the suit uncomfortably.

"Is there anyone in the room these security cameras feed to?" I asked, nodding in satisfaction at the old man's appearance. It seemed that the time he'd taken to find the suit had calmed him down somewhat. He flushed, "they used to. Way back when. But we're a minor office. If we were somewhere like St Petersburg then maybe we'd be a bit more up to date with the latest security measures but we're not. If your boy is so concerned with security, why doesn't he go there?"

"He's not the one concerned with security. I am." I said, fighting the urge to smack the man upside the head. "Look, do they at least record what's going on?"

"Of course," the man looked offended that I'd assume anything else. This time I couldn't contain the eye roll. There are only so many levels of idiocy and hypocrisy one person can stand before the eyes simply need to roll. There is no helping it.

"Fine then. You need to clean out your gun and make sure that if the shit hits the fan you'll be somewhat effective at your job. Can you do that for me?" my glare discouraged him from even _thinking_ about a patronising reply. "I'm going to go around the perimeter of the building and make sure this is the only point of entry— anything I need to know before I leave?"

"There's a service entrance at the back. It should be kept locked but..." He shrugged sullenly.

"But it's going to be locked for today," I said as I turned to leave.

"What's your name?"

I turned to regard him with a cool eye, "And how is that relevant?" I asked, my fingers tapping impatiently on the handle of the door to the outside.

"I need to know who I'm going to be swearing about to my wife tonight," he deadpanned.

My lips quirked into a smirk, "Bryan Kuznetsov. Yours?"

"Relevance?"

"It might be more civil if I ordered you around by your name rather than simply 'Hey you! Frail old man!'"

He laughed the most unamused laugh I've ever heard, "Dmitri Ivanovich."

"Well then, Dmitri. I'm going to go and check the perimeter. Brooklyn should be arriving in the next few minutes or so with Sven, you spoke to him on the phone. If I'm not back by then call this number," I tossed him a card with my mobile number on it. "Until then, try practising your tough, no-nonsense face."

-o-

By the time I came back to the lobby, Brooklyn had long since arrived and had been spirited into one of the back rooms to take a few test shots with the product he was trying to add to his portfolio.

I found Sven and Dmitri chatting like old friends and, to my surprise, Jelena leaning comfortably against the desk. I blinked before dismissing that new development. Jelena almost never came on assignments. She was, as she had termed herself 'Mission control'. She was the tactician and strategist of our (not so) merry band but she rarely came on to the field.

First finding the service entrance then finding someone who was in possession of the key to it had taken much much longer than I'd originally anticipated. In good conscience, I couldn't simply block off the door, but I had considered it several times as I tried to reason with people who (unbelievably) were even less helpful than Dmitri was.

"What are you all doing here?" I asked, annoyed because of my trials and the fact that I'd missed seeing Brooklyn.

"Giving this place an air of class," Jelena said with a sarcastic smile. She had tied her dark hair into a complicated-looking knot and, wherever it escaped the style, it stood out from her head as if she'd just received some kind of electric shock.

I nodded to the door that led to the back of the building, where I presumed Brooklyn was. "How long?"

"He's been back there for about half an hour," Sven shrugged, "Yamaguchi banned us from going beyond this mark. Said something about us being a bad influence and putting Brooklyn off his game."

"And you accepted that?" I asked incredulously.

"More or less." Jelena made a sound that may have indicated that his acceptable had been on the 'less' side of things.

"So we're—"

"—Sitting outside here like a bunch of useless lumps until his majesty deigns to grace us with his presence again, yes." Sven said with an exasperated sigh. "Maybe I was wrong."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Maybe it's not male models we should be directing our hatred at, maybe it's their managers," he said seriously. "Oh! While I think of it, your presence has been requested by Brooklyn again."

I looked at Sven sharply. "What? For what reason?" I ignored the muffled laughter from Jelena's camp as she quickly filled in Dmitri about her perceptions on why I was so concerned about security for Brooklyn.

Sven's eyed twinkled as he smiled, "He was _so fascinated_ with the sights you showed him yesterday that you two didn't get through half the things he wanted to see in this city. So the _only solution_ was that you had to take him again tonight when he's finished this and the magazine interview he has to go to this afternoon." Sven smirked, "a bit of a convoluted excuse for a second date but I'll accept it."

I chose to ignore my partner and instead looked out of the glass front of the building, mind wandering.

I hadn't anticipated that Brooklyn would want to repeat our outing so soon. It was... nice to know that he had enjoyed himself as much as I had and that he'd been actively thinking of a way to see me alone again. It was nice to be wanted.

I smiled a small smile to myself as I thought about our most-definitely-not-a-date.

-o-

"So it was your beyblading career that first brought you into the spotlight?"

I watched as Brooklyn smiled and relaxed further into the couch of his hotel room. After we'd finished at the modelling agency we'd come back to the hotel for Brooklyn to do an interview with one of the local magazines. The woman who was interviewing him had her jet-black hair pulled back too tightly and her glasses kept slipping down her nose. So far she hadn't asked any difficult questions—from what I could gather she was only writing a fluff piece. An excuse to get a few pages of photographs of Brooklyn in her magazine.

"I guess you could say that," He said easily, shrugging in a way that said that what had happened to him could happen to anyone. "I was lucky that Ken, my manager, happened to be watching my final match." He paused, looking up and playing with his bottom lip as he considered something, "I'm also probably very lucky that he didn't watch to see the end of that match, now I think of it."

"I didn't see it. Did it end badly?"

"Let's just say that there's a reason I do this now instead of that," Brooklyn said, closing his eyes. "I enjoy this though so that's always nice. I'd hate to be stuck in a job I didn't enjoy," He opened his eyes to look directly at the reporter. "Don't you think that'd be horrible?"

She cleared her throat and looked down at her notes. "I agree completely," she said as she scanned the paper sitting on her lap. "Uh... so do you find any aspects of your career a particular challenge?"

He paused, thinking. "I wish I could say something generic like the early mornings or something like that but I get up with the dawn anyway. There are some truly beautiful songs that the birds only sing early in the morning."

"Not at the moment."

Brooklyn smirked and inclined his head, "No, it's too cold right now. But when I'm at home in Japan there are some lovely things you can only hear at dawn."

"I'll take your word for it." She said with a smile that looked like it was supposed to be accommodating. "Any other parts you don't like?"

Brooklyn made a face, "The food. I used to love eating sweets but I'm not allowed to any more. Ken would have a fit." He shot me a conspiratorial look as he said that, looking back at the reporter to cover it up.

The reporter leant forward in her seat, a hungry gleam in her eyes that hadn't been present for the entire interview. "You're never allowed to indulge?" She asked, a note of desperation in her voice. "How do you think your younger fans would react to that?"

Brooklyn blinked, a surprised look on his face. I don't think anyone else saw the coldly calculated look behind his eyes as he rejoined, "My younger fans? What do you mean?"

"Well aren't you worried that younger, impressionable minds will see their beyblading hero on such a strict diet and begin to follow your lead? Your career and careless comments like that could spark a wave of eating disorders amongst our youth."

Brooklyn quirked an eyebrow. "I hardly think that my avoiding sweets will turn a generation away from the sugar. Nor do I think that it could cause eating disorders. What are you getting at?"

He sat back, folding his arms looking for all the world like and offended diva, bristling that she would dare to question his influence on children.

Like a cat patiently waiting for the mouse to get too curious.

"I'm asking you what you think your chosen _career_." she more sneered than said that word, "is doing to the youth of today who are already more looks-obsessed and fragile than any other generation before them. What do you think seeing your image splashed across every magazine, thinner than most girls and with more muscle than most guys, does to these young people?"

Brooklyn languidly leant forward, a small smile on his face. "I wouldn't even dare to speculate about what my image does for young girls... and boys." He added as an afterthought. "Maybe it tells them that they too might one day be as blessed as I am to have a successful career doing something I like? I'm hardly emaciated and am not overly muscular so I doubt I am influencing them in that way. Also, fewer sweets would tend to be a good thing for our youth, don't you think?" He sighed and looked up at the reporter, fixing her with a look she didn't dare look away from.

"The question is, of course, what do you think your career is doing to our youth? Seeing you vomit tired article after tired article on to the page with no joy or passion. You hate your job and every word that you write drips with that hatred. What do you think you're telling our youth with your articles? That their job will only be a means to an end? That whatever they do, even if they're truly successful it will only end in tedium and boredom? Or, worse yet, that when they really are successful in what they do, they will have specialised in a field they will grow to loath. It is your career that does much more damage to our youth. Your career and the bitterness that it creates."

There was a glint of cruelty in Brooklyn's eyes as he sat watched the reporter spluttering and trying to come up with something, _anything _to say in response to Brooklyn's tirade. That glint told me volumes. It told me that, unlike me, Brooklyn didn't need to do anything physical to express the violence hidden underneath his pleasant demeanour.

He had much more effective ways.

Brooklyn leant forward and whispered something in the reporter's ear. Something only meant for her. He smirked when she gasped and looked at him like he'd just become the apparition of every nightmare she'd ever suffered through. Brooklyn stood, disdain in every line, "I think we're done here. Bryan?"

I looked up, surprised to hear my name.

"You said you'd show me a little more of the city? Can we leave now?"

I nodded once and began to follow Brooklyn out of the room. I noticed one of Brooklyn's hanger-ons move to follow the redhead only to be held back by Yamaguchi. The short man gave me a nod as I walked past him.

Brooklyn stood at the doors to the elevator, hands jittering by his sides. When I caught up to him he looked over at me, a strange look in his eyes.

I could have lost myself in those eyes. In them was a mixture of violence, passion and an irrepressible need to express those emotions. He'd released some of them at that reporter and now he was looking for something to let them out completely. Now, _needed_ something to free them. That violence I'd sensed and recognised inside of him had taken over.

He reached for me, moving faster than I'd ever thought a human being could move, and pressed our lips together. I froze for a second before something inside me took over, something primal and base, recognising his violence for what it was and answering it. With a growl in the back of my throat, I grabbed Brooklyn and turned, pressing him against the elevator doors as I kissed him back.

I felt Brooklyn smile as he reached up to grab a fistful of my hair and held it in a painfully tight grip. In retaliation I pressed my entire body against his, roughly grinding him into the doors behind him. The smile turned into a predatory grin as he opened his mouth and pulled me closer. I groaned as the movement pressed our bodies together. I could feel every contour and angle of his body as it pressed against my own.

Brooklyn tasted of violence. He tasted fear and passion and loneliness and desperation. Mostly, he tasted of need. Need to express what he'd suppressed for so long. Everything in me revelled in his taste and danced in the glory that was the purity of those emotions. Everything in me sung as the emotions and feelings I suppressed every day came out to dance in terrible rhythm with his.

He made a small sound in the back of his throat as I abandoned his mouth and began attacking the smooth column of his neck, nipping and sucking where it joined his shoulder.

"Bryan..."

It was that one word that brought me back to reality. The reality where I couldn't be doing this. The reality where I couldn't allow myself this terrible pleasure or this release from my self-imposed prison. The reality where I couldn't be kissing Brooklyn.

I pulled back, taking a full step away from the man I'd just been ravishing. He was flushed and an angry red mark was already beginning to form on his neck."I—"

The violent gleam was gone from his eyes, replaced instead by the dark shadow of lust as he looked at me with his chest heaving as he fought for breath. A smug smile crossed his face as he saw my distress. "You?" he asked, taking a step forward and closing the gap between us again.

"I can't do this, Brooklyn."

"Oh?" Brooklyn's hand slowly snaked its way up my torso, ending its journey resting on the side of my neck. "Why not?" He whispered into my ear, warm breath making me shiver. "You've felt it too, haven't you?"

I turned to look at Brooklyn, too afraid of what he would say next to answer him.

Continuing despite my lack of response, Brooklyn pressed the side of his face to mine and breathed into my ear.

_"You're just like me"

* * *

_Yay! They kissed! Finally!

Come on guys, you know you want to review. Even if it's the equivalent of a 'lol, weird couple you've got there'. It makes me happy beyond mere words to hear from you.

Please tell me what you think


	7. Don't Touch Me

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Oh Bryan. How I love thee. You can bring your angsty and slightly psychotic self to my door any time. :) **  
**

* * *

I stared moodily at the wall of my apartment, lost in my own little world.

_"You're just like me"_

Words that didn't mean much by themselves. Brooklyn could have just been saying the first thing that came to his mind. He could have referring to the way I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me. He could have been referring to our shared pasts.

He wasn't, though. The look in his eyes told me that he wasn't. He had been referring to our shared violence, the reason behind our sudden and desperate passion. The reason I couldn't stop thinking about him and his soft lips and perfect skin and the way his body melded perfectly to mine. And his addictive taste of purity and passion and violence.

_"You're just like me"_

I had run. He said those words and I tore myself from his grip and ran. I ignored the elevator and chose the stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

I've never run from anything in my life until that point. Not even at the Abbey under the gaze of That Man. I'd been taught that running only led to more punishment and harsher consequences. It was better to stand and accept the consequences or, better yet, to fight. To fight and scare those who would dole out any punishment. Fight or flight had never had never meant anything to me. It was fight. There was no alternative. I'd learned that flight was not possible and my pride and Tala's influence had stopped death from being an option.

So I fought.

But not in the face of Brooklyn and his words that had struck deep to my core. In the face of that I ran, wanting to escape from that building and to get to the fresh, biting air of the outside. To forget those terrible, terrible words.

_"You're just like me"_

I wasn't. Brooklyn and I shared our violence but we weren't the same. Not by anyone's measure. My violence hurt people's bodies. Brooklyn's hurt their souls.

I'd run until I reached a dive of a bar near the outskirts of town. This was the kind of place the town drunks avoided because it was never peaceful enough for them to find their oblivion. This was the kind of place that people went to when they wanted to hurt.

I walked into the bar and sat down, ignoring the questionable sticky substance on the seat I occupied. There was no escaping things like that in that bar. Every surface was covered with things you'd rather not touch. I ordered a neat vodka and downed it in one gulp before ordering another one.

A burly man sat down on the stool next to mine and leered over at me. "What are you doing in a place like this?"

Can I just take a moment to reflect on how truly _awful_ pickup lines are? I've never heard a good one. Never. Not that I've heard too many in my life, mind you, I normally start off my conversations with lechers with preliminary fist to the face. Despite how immersed in my own personal hell I was that night, I can still remember cringing.

I turned to regard the man. He had a face that looked like it'd been rammed into a wall a few too many times and a florid whisky bloom underneath his right eye. "I'm drinking." I said flatly, downing the second vodka the bartender had placed in front of me.

I sighed as the alcohol burned its way down my throat, settling in my stomach and dispersing heat throughout my entire body. It was nothing compared to the heat I could still feel wherever Brooklyn had touched me, but it helped.

The man smiled, revealing teeth that a dentist would have a fit over. "I can see that. What brings you to this particular ess-ta-blish-mint." He drew out the last word like he'd just learned it and was showing off his new vocabulary to the class.

"Not the company," I said shortly, signalling the bartender for another drink. He obliged but much slower and with an apprehensive look in his eyes.

"No need to be rude. I'm just trying to make conversation. Unless that's not what you're interested in..." He trailed off, his eyes running up and down my body appreciatively. His gaze felt like spiders crawling up my back.

I jumped when one of his hands found its way to the small of my back, his fingers slipping dangerously low. "I'm not much into talking myself..."

I took a sip of my vodka before sighing regretfully and throwing it in the lecher's face. "Get your hands off me."

He cried out as the alcohol burned his skin and let go of me to wipe his eyes. "You _bitch_!" He swung at me, his movements made slow by years of drinking and picking fights with people he should have avoided.

I smiled and dodged the fist, slipping off the bar stool and getting closer to the lecher, punching him solidly in his solar plexus. He grunted and collapsed, off his stool, holding his stomach.

"Look like I'm not the bitch in this relationship" I said with a smirk, tossing the bartender enough money to pay for my drinks and stepping over the man with a disdainful sniff. I made sure to 'accidentally' stand on the hand that wasn't busy nursing his bruised stomach, smirking when I heard the crack of breaking bones. I left the bar feeling a little bit better about myself.

Until I remembered.

_"You're just like me."_

All I'd done was prove him right. All I'd done was show just how alike Brooklyn and I were.

And so I sat in my apartment, ignoring the putrid smell that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the place and ignoring the stains left there by the previous occupants. I still lived in the same place as when I had first left my team. My job gave me the means to afford a better, slightly more sanitary, place but I had never gotten around to sourcing one. It had never seemed a priority. My apartment was the place I went to sleep. That was all. I hadn't bothered to personalise it or to change it from how the previous occupants had kept it.

I stood, willing Brooklyn's voice out of my head. Maybe that was my problem. Maybe if I...

I began hunting through the kitchen and cleaning cupboards, trying to find anything the previous occupants had left in the way of household cleaners. Maybe if I cleaned my apartment and changed something about my life I'd be less like him? Maybe if I did that I wouldn't be drawn to him in the way I was. Maybe if I could clean the dirty, tobacco-stained walls and rid the place of its foul smell my soul would feel less dirty. Maybe then I could stop the way everything in me thrilled at the idea of seeing him again the next day. Maybe then I could listen to the more rational part of my brain that told me to fear Brooklyn's violence.

_"You're just like me"_

I was saved from my fruitless searching (the people who had lived in the place before me had been about as concerned with its condition as I'd been for the past few years) by the ringing of my mobile.

I picked up the phone and looked at the screen before bringing it to my ear, "Yes?"

"Why hello, Sunshine Bear," Jelena's voice greeted me jovially. "Where did you disappear to? We'd only just gotten rid of the reporter when Brooklyn came back by himself. Sven and I assumed that you'd gone back to the office but all of your weapons are still checked out. Did something happen?" I heard Sven's voice talking in the background and Jelena sighed down the phone. "Whatever, you have to tell me later. Right now we need you at Brooklyn's hotel room."

I felt that terrible beast within my thrill at the thought of seeing him again while the other, saner side of me shivered at the thought of having to look at those eyes again, remembering the sharpness of the violence behind them and remembering the heaviness of lust that had replaced it. "Why?"

"The guy who sent Brooklyn that letter? He's struck again."

-o-

I stared at the words spray painted in yellow with a clumsy hand on the pathway outside of the hotel.

_Why are you hiding?_

_I know the real you_

"Do we know this was the same guy?" I asked, staring at the words and imprinting them on to my brain. They had been spray painted with a paint that reflected the lights from the hotel lobby and glinted eye-catchingly. "How did no one see this happen?"

Sven shrugged. "It was three in the morning. The night porter and security guards are all trained to look for things that are happening inside the hotel not outside. And something happened in the laundry just when we think he was doing this."

I looked at Sven, "Something?" I asked, curious. It wasn't like Sven to be vague or evasive. "What happened?"

"One of the ladies on the night shift was busy doing the overnight load when a bird flew out of one of laundry hampers. Scared her half to death."

"Planted?"

"Mighty convenient if it wasn't. Also, incredibly random," Sven said with a shrug. "We think he must have struck then. Since he didn't actually touch any hotel property none of the alarms were triggered. They only found this after they'd calmed the woman down and the security guard returned to his post. As for why we think it's meant for Brooklyn—" Sven walked over to the hotel desk and took a plastic bag from it, holding it gingerly between two fingers. Inside the bag was a copy of_ Beyblade Monthly_ with a picture of Brooklyn on the front. Zeus towered behind him and the headline over their image was 'King of Timely Exits?'.

I never said it was a quality publication.

Brooklyn's picture was carefully outlined, no detail missed.

"They found it near the message, thrown into a snow drift. We haven't checked yet but I'm pretty sure that's the issue all the letters were cut out from for the last message."

"Any cameras on the outside?" I asked, looking around at the shop fronts, trying to see if any of them would have cameras that would have caught Brooklyn's tormentor.

"I'll check in the morning but it isn't looking good."

"Police?"

Sven laughed scornfully. "They'll be called in due time but so far all he's done is vandalise some public property. We're Brooklyn's best shot and you know it."

"Where is he?" I asked eventually, forcing down any emotion with a mask of professionalism. Despite my own feelings about Brooklyn and the confusion they caused he needed me to be his bodyguard and to protect him from this.

"Laundry," Sven said with no explanation, pointing to one of the many doorways that lead out of the lobby. "Through there and follow the signs. Jelena's with him and she's in a right mood—something about being pulled out of bed at this hour. I'll see if our man has left any more clues and make sure the perimeter is secure. We won't have any more visitors tonight."

I nodded and left him to it. Sven was right in that we wouldn't have any more visitors that night. But not because of his efforts. Our mystery man had finished for the night. He'd proven that he knew where Brooklyn was and, more worryingly, had shown that he could get into the hotel for long enough to plant a distraction.

I followed Sven's instructions to the laundry, trying to work out why Brooklyn would be down there.

I found out soon enough.

I walked into chaos. The laundry woman was still trying to get over her shock (I'm guessing that not much really happens in the graveyard shift) and Jelena was prowling around the room like a large cat stuck in a too-small cage. This, combined with Yamaguchi pacing around the washing tubs and avoiding Jelena's eye line while talking animatedly into his mobile in Japanese and three of Brooklyn's entourage having a very-important-sounding conversation amongst themselves and generally just being there, led to a feeling of activity and disorder. There was a small pocket of calm, however, around the man of the moment: Brooklyn.

Brooklyn sat in the corner of the room, perched on top of a gigantic washing machine as still as I've ever seen a human being. I walked slowly towards him and blinked as the orange of his hair changed into two distinct shades as I got closer. Then I realised that the dirtier, brown-orange was, in fact, a bird sitting on his shoulder, nestled against the redhead's neck.

The bird was like none I'd ever seen. Aside from its orange colour, on its head was a plume of feathers that stuck up like some bad artist's take on a mohawk. Brooklyn looked over and noticed me, giving me a tired smile. It looked like we were going to ignore what had happened earlier in the night. I was okay with that.

I indicated to the bird, "New friend?" I asked.

"Something like that." Brooklyn said with a grin, shifting carefully and patting the space beside him.

I nodded and slowly, so as not to spook the bird, turned to sit beside Brooklyn, his body warming my side. I tried not to remember the way his body had pressed against mine earlier that night. I tried to put it out of my mind.

But it was still there. I could feel that dark part of me singing with joy to be in the same room as him.

But I was here to work.

"Are you going to keep it?" I asked, looking at the bird's plumage. It was a medium-sized bird and took up most of Brooklyn's shoulder. Up close its plumage was even more impressive. "I've never seen a bird like that before."

"It's a Eurasian Hoopoe. They normally migrate south for winter but in summer they do live up around here." Brooklyn scowled, "Why would someone go to the trouble of bringing it here? Why would they put it here? It could have died of shock. It still might." He brought his hand to his shoulder and made a clucking sound, smiling as the bird left the relative safety provided by the solidity of Brooklyn's body and moved to his hand. Brooklyn moved his arm so the bird sat in front of his face and he could study it better. "Someone who could do that to such a beautiful creature needs to be stopped."

"Not because they're after you but because they might have potentially hurt a bird?" I asked incredulously.

Brooklyn turned to look at me. "He has as much right to live as we do, Bryan. So far this creep has only tried to scare me. He hasn't abducted me and he certainly hasn't done his best to frighten me to death." He ran one finger down the back of the hoopoe, a softer look crossing his face as the bird wriggled under his touch. "He's hurt this little guy much more than he's hurt me."

"You're keeping him then," I said, refusing to get into a debate about the value of animal lives over humans. Over Brooklyn's.

Brooklyn smiled, recognising my ploy but moving past it, "Maybe. At least until I can find him a good home. He seems docile enough so Ken won't complain too much... I hope."

I nodded absently, looking out over the room. Yamaguchi was still on the phone, this time yelling at someone in German. Jelena was still prowling, she'd stopped when I'd come in then returned when she realised I only had eyes for one person in the room. Noticing my wandering attention, she nodded once before resuming her pacing, lost in her thoughts.

"I'm sorry."

"Hm?" I asked looking over at Brooklyn.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, his teal eyes meeting mine. "About earlier."

"Forget it." I said, suddenly finding the bird much more fascinating.

"No, Bryan..." He said, returning the bird to his shoulder and out of my line of sight. "Listen to me... Are you listening?"

I sighed and reluctantly met his eyes again, the eyes I'd become so fascinated with. The eyes behind which was something that I both recognised and was deeply frightened of. "I'm listening."

"I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I didn't mean to jump down that reporter's throat," He grimaced in a way that spoke volumes about the lecture he must have received from Yamaguchi.

He paused for a few seconds, head unconsciously leaning toward the bird, taking comfort in its solidity. "And... I'm sorry about what happened between us. I'm... not sure what came over me." He tried for a smile and failed. "I know we can't do this." He said softly. "But— I want to."

I smiled, maybe a bit more effectively than him but not much, "I know what that feels like." I said simply, turning back to watch the activity in the laundry again. I didn't know what I was supposed to say to that. A number of ridiculously corny lines from movies occurred to me. Some even sounded appropriate for the situation. But people don't speak like that so I remained silent, instead allowing the noise of the laundry to wash over us.

"...Bryan?"

I looked over at Brooklyn, wishing he'd drop the subject. There wasn't much to say anymore. We both wanted each other but we couldn't and that was how it had to stay. Despite the despair that washed over me and the keening of my soul telling me I was refusing the only person who would understand me, the only person my soul had recognised, I had to say no.

A warm pair of lips brushed against mine so gently I barely registered their presence before Brooklyn pulled back. He bit his lip as he looked out over the laundry, making sure we hadn't been observed. He flushed guiltily when I gave him a look.

"Can we make it so we can do this?" He asked.

"What? Like me give up protecting you right when the psycho who seems out to get you steps up his game?" I asked, disbelievingly. "Because that's the only way we could make it okay." Not to mention that Brooklyn frightened me. He called to me and he repelled me at the same time.

Brooklyn frowned. "But you've got your partners. They can look after it if you can't."

I scoffed, "It's not that simple. As much as I trust Sven and Jelena they're not enough. Besides, I think it's already a bit too late."

"Then what's the worry?" Brooklyn asked. "If it's already become a personal thing then there's no point in denying whatever it is we've got going."

_"You're just like me"_

I pushed myself off the washing machine abruptly, making the bird call out in alarm and Brooklyn turn his attention to calming it. "I can't do this, I'm sorry." I said, leaving the laundry and ignoring Jelena yelling after me.

I found Sven in the lobby. It looked like he'd given up trying to find any new evidence and was contenting himself taking photographs of absolutely everything.

He saw my face and stopped immediately, putting the camera down and walking over to me with a concerned look on his face. "What is it?"

"I think I broke the rule," I said, my shoulders slumping. Sven had made me promise to tell him if I stepped over the line. I'd not only stepped over the line, I had leapt. "I can't do this anymore, Sven. I care too much about the outcome. I can't protect him anymore."

To his credit, Sven didn't judge. He didn't look surprised, either. He simply folded his arms and sighed. "Knew it," he said sadly. "Jelena and I will handle this then. I'm not sure how we'll manage it but you'll just be a danger to both us and him."

He turned away and hit the desk with an almighty _slam_, frustration, more than anything, in every line. "Dammit, Bryan! Why couldn't you just keep it in your pants for a bit longer until we'd caught this guy? Brooklyn needs you to protect him much more than he needs another lover."

I scowled. "There hasn't been anything out of my pants, thank you very much. I just can't do it anymore. I know Brooklyn needs me as a bodyguard but I _can't_. I'm sorry I've left you and Jelena in a lurch but you can handle it. I'll catch up on the cases we dumped to take this job. There's nothing I want more in this world to be the one standing beside him and protecting him from this freak but I can't do it. Not effectively and certainly not as well as I need to be in order to catch this guy. You told me to tell you if I got too close and here I am."

Having thoroughly fulfilled my word quota for the day, I spun on my heel and walked toward the door.

I felt an impact behind my knees before I fell on to the hard hotel floor. I growled as I looked up at Sven holding his staff. My eyes narrowed, "Not tonight." I said as I pushed myself up off the ground and stood. "We'll talk about this again tomorrow when I don't want to kill you and you've worked out how you and Jelena are going to keep Brooklyn safe."

I walked out of the hotel, ignoring every instinct I had to run back, take back everything I had said, renew my professional status and go back to Brooklyn.

I looked down at the angry yellow paint staining the pathway.

_I know the real you_

I stared at the words; Brooklyn needed protection from this person. He needed to be safe. I thought about that lecher I'd hurt in that seedy bar and about the way I'd enjoyed hurting him to vent some of my own pain.

"_You're just like me"_

He needed to be kept safe from me.

* * *

Please Tell me what you think


	8. Attack Me Twice

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to **SiriusCloud68 **for being awesome and reviewing (and I'm talking like... jetpacks awesome)

**Shameless plug**: Go check out the **_Beyblade Community Project_** (you can find the profile in my favourites) it's a big project where authors contribute chapters to create a big, happy story full of joy and happiness. They're currently looking for new authors so if you've got a bit of time you should go check it out :)**  
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* * *

I walked through the doors of my apartment building, still berating myself. Why had I done that? If I had kept Brooklyn's and my relationship secret or... actually, if I had kept it as a non-thing everything would be better. Everything would be wonderful... or as wonderful as my life could get.

Instead I had to give in to that pull. I had to give in to the way he made everything in me feel alive. I had to give in to those teal eyes that looked at me and saw themselves. I had to give in to that person who was so much like me and yet...

I had to give in.

I stormed up the stairs, not caring about the amount of noise I was making or what time it was. I was too engrossed in my own thoughts.

I reached into my pocket and fumbled around for my keys, cursing softly until my fingers found them. I pulled them out and looked at my door.

Accusing yellow spray paint written by a hand made steady by rage.

_I know what you're doing_

I blanched and flicked my wrist, releasing my favourite knife into my hand. I looked around, trying to find something, anything that would give a clue as to who had left the message. I turned back to look at the message, noting that the paint was dry. He was long gone by now.

I used my free hand to pull out my mobile, ignoring the way fatigue made my hand shake. I was getting weak. One night of missed sleep and I had started to feel it? Pathetic.

I dialled Sven's number and put the phone to my ear, waiting patiently for my partner to pick up the phone.

"What do you want now?" came Sven's tired growl. "Are you trying to make my life more difficult?"

I smirked, despite myself, "I think that'd be pretty damn difficult at this moment but want me to give it a try?"

He swore and I heard covers rustle. He must have only just gone to bed. "What?"

"Brooklyn's psycho found my apartment."

I heard a thump as Sven fell back on his bed, "Fuck."

-o-

"So... you're not going to take yourself off my case?" Brooklyn asked carefully, moving through his hotel room on a quest for food for his new pet.

"Your boy seems to know I'm connected with you in some way—"

"—In _what_ way exactly?" Brooklyn asked, finding some berries with a little 'aha' and returning to the room. "Konnie? Want some food?"

I paused, "Konnie?"

"The hoopoe we rescued last night. I've named him Konstantin. Konnie for short," Brooklyn said cooly, waving the food near the bird's face.

I blinked, watching the way the bird first contemplated the food then snatched it from Brooklyn's slender fingers with, if it hadn't been a bird, I would have sworn was a smug expression. "Oh."

"So now you're back to being my bodyguard?" Brooklyn asked, "Or are you being guarded just as much as me?"

I shrugged, "bit of both, I guess."

Brooklyn let out a non-committal "Hn," before going back to the bird. He watched the thing preen itself with a fascination that was almost unnatural. No, it _was_ unnatural. And kind of unnerving.

I snapped. "What?" I asked, folding my arms.

"Hm?" Brooklyn looked up at me, his face expectant. "What what?"

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, frustrated. "You're obviously waiting for me to say something and until I do you seem pretty damn content to act like a pissy girl."

Brooklyn's face clouded over. "I'm sorry if this 'pissy girl' isn't giving you all the attention you want. You got a threatening message last night? Poor Bryan!" he said sarcastically, transferring Konnie to his shoulder. "You can't get yourself off my case? Dear Dear. Life must be so tragic for you. Excuse me while I go recover from my grief over your terrible terrible circumstances." Brooklyn left the room.

I sighed and sank into the couch. I'd been trying to do the right thing. Here I was trying to make sure that Brooklyn wasn't protected by someone who had emotions clouding their judgement. Here I was having been identified as a threat by the person who'd proven himself a real danger last night.

And he was getting pissy with me?

I growled to myself, "And what kind of idiotic name is Konstantin anyway?"

"I think he wanted to name it something to suit the place he found it. But all of your Russian names started sounding the same so I think he ended up just picking one for the hell of it."

I looked up to see Yamaguchi at the doorway.

"How long have you been there?" I asked, angry that I hadn't noticed him before.

"I don't find you important enough to spy on if that's what you're worried about," he said snidely, walking into the room.

"So what are you here for?" I asked, folding my arms defensively.

"Brooklyn's upset," Yamaguchi shrugged and refused to move further into the room. "He needs to work in order to get his mind off everything but he can't because he's upset." Yamaguchi nodded toward me. "You did this."

I stared at the little man in shock. I now knew why I didn't like him. Beady eyes and punchable face aside, Yamaguchi was a world-class dick. "How did I do this, exactly? Brooklyn has someone who's got a little bit of a mental issue following him—"

"—from Japan to Russia. We're looking at a little more than a small mental imbalance. He followed Brooklyn here." Yamaguchi paused, looking at me expectantly. When I didn't do what he wanted he sighed, "keep speaking."

"—Someone who has no issues with upsetting the wildlife. Brooklyn seemed particularly upset about the bird's plight. None of this is my fault."

"And yet every time he gets that mopey expression on his face he's looking at you."

I scoffed. "Brooklyn doesn't get mopey. He's too busy talking to birds and being God's gift to mankind."

It's a testament to how distracted and sleep deprived I was that Yamaguchi's punch landed. It wasn't a particularly forceful or well executed punch but it did the job of making me pay attention.

"Listen you ungrateful punk," he pointed to the door Brooklyn had left by, "my client is upset because of you. He can't do his job because of you. Because of you I now can't do my job. Get your lazy punk-ass in there and you make him snap out of this funk. Tell him that you'll personally protect him from this psycho. Point out that all this guys done is leave somewhat unsettling messages. Tell him you're Batman for all I care! Just get in there! Brooklyn has to be at a photoshoot in an hour and he needs to be ready to do his job."

I stared at the man, gauging how serious he was. His punch hadn't hurt—I'd been on the receiving end of Sven venting his frustrations too many times for something like that to affect me. What did affect me was the man's _gall_.

But I also knew that if I hit Yamaguchi back I'd be on more than just the receiving end of a punch from Sven. If I hit the little Japanese Jelena would first hold me down while Sven made sure I died extremely slowly.

Not to mention that Brooklyn would be left unprotected.

I stood and stalked out of the room, following the way Brooklyn had left. I walked into a hallway with many doors leading out of it. There was only one door that was closed so I went to it first, opening it slowly.

"Brooklyn?" I asked, the light was off and the room was in the middle of the house so didn't have any windows. I've never liked the dark; It makes my skin prickle. The dark is where the terrors can happen and you're always _always_ unprepared. I took a deep breath and shoved the fear into a corner of my mind where I could safely ignore it. I was beyond that now. I didn't have to be afraid of the dark any more. "Are you here?"

"Does it matter?"

I sighed and stepped through the door, closing it softly behind me. I leant against the door and sank down against it until I was sitting with my back against the door.. "What do you want me to say, Brooklyn?" I asked, patience coming from every pore. I was as Gandhi. Jelena would have been proud.

"Why are you here?"

"Right now?" I sighed. "Yamaguchi."

"That photoshoot in a few hours? The one for that new line of men's clothing?"

I shrugged, despite the fact that the redhead couldn't see me. "Maybe. I didn't ask."

"You can go tell him that I changed my mind. I don't want to do it anymore," came the sullen reply. "If Ken wants it so badly he can go put on the suits and pose in front of the camera by himself."

I made a face "_No one_ wants to see that. Besides, don't you think you're acting a little immature? You made this commitment. You see it through."

"Follow your own advice."

"Is that what this is about?"

A loaded silence was my answer. I squinted into the darkness, trying to see the other but the light was too bad. "Brooklyn..."

"Yes?"

"Yes, Brooklyn. I'm attracted to you. Yes. Every time we kiss I feel like my whole body's on fire. And yes. I want to keep feeling that. But we can't. _I_ can't. Not if I'm going to protect you in the way you need to be protected."

"And what way is that?"

"In a way that any competent bodyguard would. If I'm too busy being aware of your every move and watching the way your eyes light up whenever you see something you like I can't be watching out for any suspicious behaviour from the crowds. If I'm too busy thinking about the way your body feels when it's pressed against mine or even when you're simply sitting next to me I can't pay attention to the security measures already in place and I can't keep a secure perimeter. Worse. If I care about you more than I should and the worst happens I would not only have failed professionally but also emotionally. And I can't do that. It's not fair to you and it's certainly not fair to me."

I felt the tickle of hair against my cheek before I felt Brooklyn's lips against mine. Unlike our first kiss, this was a gentle caress and unlike our second kiss Brooklyn didn't pull away quickly.

My eyes slid shut as I responded to the kiss. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. I needed to. That spark of fire that was caused simply by Brooklyn's presence, by his touch, and by his voice leapt up into a full flame. I couldn't deny myself this. I could try but I would never get very far.

"_You're just like me."_

Brooklyn made a sound of surprise as I pulled him toward me, my hands tracing down his shoulders and on to his back, massaging it gently as I once again tasted the emotional purity that was Brooklyn.

That taste of violence was still there but now it was overshadowed by a gentleness that hadn't been there before. An innocence and caring that hadn't even registered in our first kiss. There was no more cruelty and anger. There was just... Brooklyn.

One of Brooklyn's hands reached up to cup the back of my head, his fingers flexing as they buried themselves in my hair. His other hand crept downwards, toying with the bottom of my shirt before sneaking under it, his cool hands coming in contact with the warm skin of my back.

I jumped at the unexpected coolness, making him smile. He pulled back slowly, darting back for one or two more gentle kisses before he sat back, his hand still comfortably tracing patterns on my bare back.

"What was that about being fair?" he asked, a smile colouring his voice.

I smirked despite myself, "Cheater."

He sighed and withdrew his hand, turning so he could sit in my lap and rest comfortably against me. "Did it scare you when you saw his message?" he asked.

I shrugged, unsure if he could feel it. "I don't get scared over things like that. I got angry."

Brooklyn reached up a hand to stroke my cheek, his fingers soft against my skin. "You're just one big walking cliché aren't you?"

I nipped at the redhead's fingers playfully, smirking at his gasp of surprise when I caught the end of one of his fingers and worried it gently. "I'd be careful who I said that to."

He laughed, "And why's that?"

"Because my bite's probably a bit worse than my bark." I swear I could _hear_ his eye roll.

"That's terrible. Like, _truly_ terrible._"_

I smirked, "Now can we get out of this room and go do what we need to do? Otherwise I'll come up with some more."

"Clichés?" Brooklyn asked.

"Of course. I've got plenty of time to murder and then maybe a bit more time to hide the body." He groaned, hitting me gently.

"Idiot." He sighed and I felt him begin to retreat back into himself, back into the person he was to the outside world. "Will you still be my bodyguard?" he asked, never one to let a good argument go.

"I'll work out something with Sven."

-o-

Sven glared at me.

No, not glared. A glare is something that, after you've received enough of them, you aren't scared of anymore (take Kai's death-glare, for example, that was good for maybe five years and now it just makes me smirk). Sven's glare, however, would have chilled me to the bone if I'd been on the receiving end of it for a thousand years.

"So we haven't had a chance to calm down over last night..." I said, looking away so I wouldn't have to see the way those eyes bored into my soul.

The green-haired man was silent. If possible the glare deepened. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against Jelena's desk. He'd been waiting for me, I think. After I'd called him I had gone straight to Brooklyn and left him to deal with the mess Brooklyn's psycho had created. I don't think that had added any points in my favour.

I folded my arms and chose to remain silent. Despite the sheer intimidation power of that glare I still had a lot of experience with waiting out people who were clearly pissed at me.

It was just a matter of time.

The door behind me opened. I glanced away from Sven to see Jelena, shaking his head to get rid of some errant snow that had fallen on her. She began stripping off her gloves as she looked at us and assessed the situation. "'Morning," she said cautiously, shoving the gloves into her jacket pocket and stripping off the jacket. "Cold out there."

I turned back to Sven to continue our glaring match. I was losing badly but I had sheer stubbornness on my side.

"Boys?" Jelena asked, noticing that we were both ignoring her. "Boys!"

Sven's attention snapped from me to her, hitting her with only slightly less force than the gaze he'd directed at me. "Yes?" He asked after a few seconds of composing himself.

Jelena rolled her eyes. "Children. The both of you." She moved quickly and hit me upside the head, flinging her jacket at Sven in the same movement. "Are we ready to have a grown-up talk? Or are you just going to telepathically project thoughts of hatred at each other for the rest of the day?" She walked purposefully past Sven, swiping her jacket from the confused man and throwing it on to the coat rack behind her desk.

Jelena looked at the clock. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, Brooklyn's got a photo shoot in about half an hour. I assume that Sven's already done a security check on the building?"

"Same one as before. Dogs." Sven said, shooting me a glare that told me exactly what he wanted the dogs to be snacking on that night. He earned himself a smack from Jelena for that look.

"Okay then. You," She pointed to Sven, "Are going to go and escort Brooklyn to the place and then you're going to make sure he gets back to the hotel in one piece. You're going it alone today. Mr Hopeless Romantic and I are going to have a bit of a chat."

I couldn't help it. A sceptical look came across my face. Me? A Hopeless romantic? That was a little... farfetched.

I dodged the stapler that was thrown at my head and glared at Jelena. "What was that for?"

"Don't think I'm not pissed at you, Pumpkin. It's just that we have a job to do and having a glaring match with Sven won't solve any of our problems. Sven!"

Sven looked up, shocked. He'd been trying to slowly inch away from the little ball of wrath that had once been our receptionist/back up/strategist. Now he was looking sheepish and trying to disappear into the ground to escape her glare. "...Yes?"

Jelena pointed. "Weapons. Move."

He nodded haplessly and scuttled, I kid you not, _scuttled_ out of the room. I would soon understand why when she turned the force of her attention on to me. "Bryan!"

I swallowed. "Yes, Ma'am?" I asked politely, remembering from my childhood that courtesy was often one of the best ways to sneak under the radar of an enraged person. Unfortunately I was the only blip on her radar at that second and she was homing in fast.

She pointed to her desk. "You never came back here last night. Weapons on the table."

I looked at her, gauging if she was serious or not.

_"Now"_

She was serious. Sighing, I began the arduous task of disarming myself, taking out all of the weapons I'd hidden all over my body. When I'd finished I placed the sheath and my knife on top of the deadly-looking pile and looked over at Jelena, waiting for further instructions.

Sven emerged from the weapons store only to be directed firmly out the door with a single pointing finger. He complied, his face a mask of what might either have been acceptance, dark fury or annoyance. I wasn't sure.

"Now," She said, satisfied. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I blinked. "Uh... awaiting your instructions? Trying not to breathe too much lest it use up too much of your oxygen?" I tried. She was unamused.

"You know that there's really on one rule about this gig, right? Or, at least, one rule that actually matters. Everything else is more of a firm suggestion." She put her hands on her hips and gave me a Sven-worthy glare.

I nodded. "Don't get attached."

"You look mighty attached to me."

I sighed. "Sven and I have already gone over this. I broke the rule, I know."

"No, Bryan, I don't think that you do know. Otherwise you wouldn't have broken the rule. It's not like it's rocket science. Stay professional, stay unattached, stay calm."

"Technically that's three rules." I ducked as a stapler was thrown at my head. Jelena didn't seem particularly picky about her weapons. As long as it had a chance to do damage it looked like it was fair game.

"Then that's three rules you've broken! You idiot! And on top of that you go and call the attention of the guy who's after Brooklyn! So now not only do we have to keep you as far away from him as possible—" she obviously hadn't heard of my visit to Brooklyn's hotel that morning. I wasn't going to enlighten her. "—Now we have to look after you as well. Tell me, where do you think you're going to stay now?"

I blinked. "Uh... my home?"

She threw up her hands. "Men! Men and your stupidity and stupidness and stupidation! First you can't keep it in your pants—"

"—_Still_ nothing coming out of my pants" I interjected defensively.

"_Like that makes it better!_ And then! Then! You make it so incredibly obvious to everyone _including_ the guy who thinks Brooklyn is his King and so now he's after you and you think you can just go home? Where he's already tracked you down? Geez, Bryan, I knew that I was the brains of this outfit but seriously!"

"...You done?" I asked.

"...I think so." Jelena said, breathing slightly laboured from her yelling. "Okay. Yes. Done."

"Can I talk now?"

"Will you take my breath away with your stupidity again?" She asked, looking at me with narrow eyes.

"No, but maybe I will with my stupidation—what does that even mean?" I asked slyly.

"I was angry. Shut up."

"Coffee?" I was starting to feel lightheaded as the lack of sleep caught up to me.

Jelena gestured to the morning sky. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

And thus we come to how, in the darkest days of NaNo I decided to give up and just start making up words.

Please tell me what you think! Reviews make me unreasonably happy :)


	9. Living in Paradise

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to **iluvbeyblade **and **phoenixandtiger** (both of whom are awesome people and you should go read everything they've ever written right now) for being amazing with the reviews and I'm now proud to announce that not only are we in double digits for reviews but also that there are more reviews than chapters! Moving up in the world!

So I had an epiphany the other day and realised that Sven is totally modelled after Sven Vollfied from Black cat (KNEW his name and description came a little too easily) Despite this, he really is his own character. I just apparently suck at names and descriptions XD

Hope you enjoy

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Jelena grinned as she inhaled the scent of her coffee, made so strong that it would have made a lesser person gag.

"So why the sudden hate?" I asked, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "A few days ago you two were happily teasing me about going on a date with Brooklyn." I took a sip of my drink, trying not to remember the way Brooklyn had stolen my drink the last time I'd been there and the way he'd turned drinking it into not only a challenge but an almost sensual experience.

Of course, when you try not to remember something it becomes all you can think about until it even begins to take over what's happening in reality.

"—Joke."

"What?" I blinked, bringing myself out of my Brooklyn and ridiculously sugary cake fantasies. Now was really not the time. Especially considering that Jelena had only just forgiven me to the point of not throwing sharp objects at my head. It really wasn't the time to piss her off again.

She gave me a look that said she was seriously considering taking the butter knife on the table and putting it to more creative uses.

"When we were talking about it we were joking. I mean..." She had the grace to look uncomfortable, "You're not exactly known for your ability to connect with your fellow man." She gave me a look that just _dared_ me to make a suggestive remark. I looked away to hide my smirk.

"_Anyway_," She continued, shooting me a filthy look, "We figured that you'd go out on this sightseeing trip, remember why you quit the sport in the first place and there'd be no harm and we'd have an excuse to make fun of you for the next month." She shrugged. "We thought you knew the rules."

I shifted uncomfortably. "But no matter how badly I've broken them you need me. Sven can't do it by himself—he's only ever worked in a partnership and it's not fair to make him try to learn how to go solo so quickly." I paused, "It's even more unfair to Brooklyn to do that. We can't punish him because I screwed up. He didn't know the rules. I did."

"So? I can take over." Jelena shrugged. "We've already been over this."

"That was before we knew this guy had stepped up his game."

"What? Leaving a message outside the hotel room? We knew that."

"No, he's watched Brooklyn enough to know that I'm involved. I don't know what he knows or what he thinks I'm doing," I shuddered as I remembered those angry words.

_I know what you're doing_

"But I'm pretty sure he doesn't like it," I finished

"He's stepped up his game he's not content to just send Brooklyn letters anymore. He wants to change his life—to frighten off the people around him. The next step is contact." I watched Jelena's face as I said this, interested that no flicker of surprise crossed her face. "You knew that."

"I'm not an idiot, Bryan." She tucked her long hair behind her ears, it was loose that day, and fixed me with her grey eyes. "I wanted to see if you'd worked it out."

"So you also know why I can't leave you and Sven to look after him by yourselves. Sven can't handle it alone and, if he's going to make contact, you need me there. You can't sideline me because of some stupid rules."

"You have a solution? You know that we can't have you in direct contact with Brooklyn. I trust you to be professional while you're on duty but there are limits to that trust."

"Can't I just take the perimeter?" I asked, downing the last of my coffee and ignoring the way it burned down my throat. Unlike the vodka I'd had the night before it didn't burn pleasantly. I coughed and put the cup down, glaring at it like it had done me a personal wrong. Which... it had. "As long as I don't come into direct contact with Brooklyn I can stay objective and stay on the case, right? Does that solve our problems?"

"No. But it'll have to do. _Idiot_"

I smirked. "Does this mean I now get to brag about having a model as a boyfriend?"

I caught the near-empty coffee cup she hurled at me.

-o-

I picked Sven up from Brooklyn's hotel after the photo shoot. "How'd it go?"

"_Dogs_," He help up his arm to show off his ruined jacket sleeve. "I hate dogs. I trust that Jelena yelled at you?"

"And threw things."

He smirked, nodding in satisfaction. "What solution did you come to?"

"I'm going to stay on the case but you're the only one who gets direct contact. I do security assessments and perimeter only," I reported.

"Does that mean that _you're_ the one who has to deal with the cold and the dogs for the rest of the time we're guarding Brooklyn?"

"Pretty much."

It was the first time I'd seen Sven smile for a while and nothing was more welcome. It meant that there was forgiveness even after I'd broken the rule.

"In that case," he reached into his pocket to take out a slip of paper with an address written on it, "Yamaguchi gave me this. It's the address for the shopping centre Brooklyn's scheduled to make an appearance at in a week."

"If our psycho strikes it'll probably be then."

"Then I guess you'd better make sure your assessment is thorough." He said with a grin, the idea of the tedium and boredom I'd have to endure giving him some kind of sick enjoyment.

-o-

"No, _Where—" _I stopped, "Look, you know what? I'm just going to come down there." I stood on the second floor of the shopping centre, looking down at an even more annoying Dmitri-clone. His name was Iosif... or something. Really, sometimes I just didn't care anymore. I'd been dealing with this man for a full day and I had come to the conclusion that he was either pure evil or he was just giving me headaches for sport.

...Okay, given those two choices I'm fairly sure they both add to just plain evil. And not even imaginatively so. He was the head of security at the shopping centre. Unlike Dmitri, however, the man at least knew how to look the part. So that was something. He also managed to pull off his salt-and pepper hair with something that a lesser man may have labelled distinguishment. I did not. But that may have been because I had passed annoyed about three hours ago.

I walked into the small area Brooklyn was scheduled to make his appearance in. _Of course_ it had to be visible from both storeys and _of course _it had to be in a place where people could see him from every angle. Because that was what was good for the business. Brooklyn was scheduled, along with a few other, local models, to show off a store's new line of men's clothing so they'd set up a miniature catwalk in the middle of the space. Unlike any sane design of a catwalk I've ever seen, there was no changing area so they would be able to be seen by the maximum number of people.

It was...

_Idiotic_.

"Okay." I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I really _wanted_ to strangle Iosif, but I wouldn't. Because I was fucking Gandhi. "So where are they expected to get changed, exactly?"

"The store," Iosif indicated to the store in question. It was about 20 metres from the stage. "They will get changed over there then come over here to do the show. Because this is a winter show they'll be wearing their basics and then put the outerwear on as they need to."

"—And that will be stored..."

"Here." He pointed to a section just off the stage.

Ok, so I lied a little. There was a place for the models to change. It was just an inadequate screen-thing so I didn't really count it as a change room. I think that the sponsors, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that, because they wouldn't be changing anything but their outerwear, all that was needed was a flimsy screen.

My man Iosif had thought this was an excellent idea despite the fact that all it did was limit security personnel's vision and didn't even provide a secure area in compensation.

I felt a headache begin to form behind my eyes again. I pinched the bridge of my nose, willing it to go away. I almost missed Dmitri? Despite his general incompetence he, at least, had had the ability to listen. "And what strikes you as being particularly odd about this situation?" I asked, closing my eyes and trying to picture Gandhi.

Instead, I got an image of Brooklyn dressed in his normal ensemble of white, feeding Konnie.

I sighed, whatever worked to stop me from killing Iosif. I wasn't that picky.

I'd come to the centre hoping to do a simple outside security check. Maybe look at a few dodgy locks, maybe fix a few security camera arrangements. I was hoping that my most headache-inducing task would be doing background checks.

Instead I had found an incomplete plan of what was actually happening on the day, Iosif, and a 360 degree runway.

Sometimes I really hated my life.

My phone began to ring. I looked over at Iosif and, seeing that he was still seriously trying to find the problem in his fool proof security plan, reached into my pocket to pull out my phone. I put it to my ear.

"Yes_?_" I all-but growled into the receiver.

A laugh I'd never get sick of hearing came down the phone line. _"Rough day?"_

"Why a shopping centre?" I complained, tucking the phone against my shoulder as I navigated away from Iosif of the infuriating thickness. "Why _this_ shopping centre?"

"_That bad?"_

"Was this Yamaguchi's idea? I would _love_ to share some of my pain with that man."

Brooklyn chuckled. "_Maybe? I'm not actually sure. If it makes you feel any better I'm pretty sure that he didn't pick this appearance with your pain in mind_."

"No. It doesn't make me feel better. Tell me things. Tell me things that won't give me a headache."

There was a silence over the phone as Brooklyn pondered what he could tell me that I didn't already know. _"Ken found Konnie a new home. Some rich guy who has an aviary Ken says I'd kill for. Oh! And they cancelled my meeting this afternoon so I'm going to be free after lunch. Would you be able to come over? I want to show you something before the guy comes to pick Konnie up._

"Well that's one way to cheer me up." I said, looking over at the Iosif who, having failed to come up with a solution, was now uselessly walking around the area, checking things I'd checked hours ago. "God willing, I'll be finished here in the next hour or so. Provided I don't kill the head of security they've got here."

_"Much luck."_

"Appreciated."

I sighed and hung up on Brooklyn before turning back to Iosif and trying to figure out a way to get it into his thick skull that at some point the models would have to walk from the store to the catwalk in order to do their job.

Sometimes my job was rewarding. Othertimes... not so much.

-o-

I met Sven as I walked through the doors of the hotel lobby on my way to see Brooklyn.

"I hate you," I started off amiably.

He grinned. "You met Iosif, then?"

"I hate you."

His grin turned into a smirk as he ran his hand through his short hair. "I spoke to him on the phone a few days ago. I thought you might appreciate his... unique approach to his job."

"The approach where he doesn't even really understand what that job is?" I asked, exasperated. The head of security and I had, after much negotiating and many many imagined scenes where I murdered him slowly and painfully, finally agreed to a plan that possibly wouldn't end with Brooklyn being killed. Which was progress, I think.

"That's the one. You here to see Brooklyn?"

"No. I'm here to see Yamaguchi to continue our passionate love affair. Brooklyn was a red herring." I deadpanned as I walked past Sven, waving as I did.

"You armed?"

I paused and looked over my shoulder at Sven, "Trouble?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. In an alley outside the building we were in there was a small mountain of cigarette butts like someone had set up shop there for a few hours. I found something similar in the alley across the road from here," he nodded in that direction.

"Could be anything," I said dismissively. "People stop and wait for things all the time."

"Same brand of cigarettes. And not the cheap ones. Imported from Japan."

Which probably meant that it had been the same person outside both buildings. Not only that, it probably meant that it had been our man. "I've got my knife."

He nodded. "Stay on your guard."

I turned and left him, making a mental note to be more vigilant and paranoid than I normally was. Normally not a difficult feat but half of my mind was already busy with the thrill of seeing Brooklyn again.

I was greeted at the door with a filthy look from Yamaguchi. "Uh...?" I asked, trying to decipher why the Japanese man was angry _this_ time.

He held out a magazine, only holding it with two fingers like he didn't want to touch it too much. On the cover was an unflattering picture of Brooklyn (don't get me wrong, even in unflattering pictures he still looks delectable I'm talking comparatively) with the heading 'Top Model claims fears for children's health unfounded'.

I studied the magazine for a second before looking up at Yamaguchi, "She got her revenge?"

He made a face. "And then some. I've been fielding phone calls all day and now the shopping centre appearance looks like it's in question. They don't want someone who the public sees as dismissing body image issues. On top of that, she's claimed that Brooklyn thinks children are too fat and that they should aspire to be more like the images they see in magazines."

I frowned. "How did she get to that?" I chose to ignore the part about the possible cancellation of the shopping centre trip. I was unsure where to rejoice about the prospect of never seeing Iosif again or to hit something because of the hours of wasted effort. It was best to remain neutral until the verdict was known on that front.

"Taking a lot of direct quotes out of context and doing what trashy reporters do best with words."

"Bitch."

"Not totally undeserved, though. Brooklyn did this himself."

"What's he doing about it?"

"Fuck all."

The language from Brooklyn's manager made me pause and actually look at the man for the first time that day. Yamaguchi was normally completely in control. He may have been an unpleasant human being and most definitely more concerned with Brooklyn's career than with Brooklyn himself but he was nothing if not calm, collected and efficient in all things.

Now he looked like hell had found it had a debt to collect and had taken it all at once. His hair was out of its normal, neatly combed, state and was messed up. His face had a grey pallor to it and the skin hung loosely from it like he hadn't had a good meal for a few days.

"When did you find out about this?" I asked, walking into the room, still holding the magazine.

"Two days ago. I kept it off shelves for one day while I tried to get them to pull the article but..." He shrugged, "There's only so much you can do when I can't deny that Brooklyn said all of those things. And he pissed off the reporter to no end."

Brooklyn hadn't said anything to me. It had been a few days since I had been forbidden from having direct contact with Brooklyn while on duty and he'd been busy. But we'd kept in contact over the phone. There was no reason for him to not have mentioned it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, realising that this was maybe the first conversation Yamaguchi and I had had where he wasn't openly hostile towards me.

"I need someone to get him out of my sight for a few hours. _Then_ I might be able to think without getting stuck thinking about how all of this wouldn't be necessary if he had shown a modicum of self con—" Yamaguchi took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Just take him away."

I nodded and walked past him, searching for Brooklyn.

I found him unconcernedly lounging on the couch, watching Konnie fly from one object to another, the bird's orange feathers looking almost like flames against the stark white of the walls. For a rather stupid looking bird, he was quite graceful when he flew.

Brooklyn looked up when he noticed me. "Bryan!" He said happily, sitting up. "I've been waiting for you."

"Long story," I said simply. "What did you want to show me?"

Brooklyn gestured to the bird making another triumphant lap around the room. "He just started flying this morning."

I smiled, "That's great. I'm glad he's recovered from his shock." I spotted Yamaguchi outside the door.

Brooklyn smiled, "Yeah, just in time for him to go into shock all over again when he gets to his new home."

I shrugged, "Such is life," I mused. "Do you want to go outside for a bit?" I asked, holding out my hand to Brooklyn. "I've been cooped up all day and the weather's actually kind of tolerable."

"I love that kind of tolerable is actually a recommendation," Brooklyn said mildly, accepting my help to stand up.

"I see you haven't been staying here for the past week. Let me be the first to say it then: Welcome to Russia." I said flatly.

Brooklyn grinned and turned to Konnie, stroking its head affectionately with one finger. "You probably won't be here when I get back," he said quietly. "Be good, yeah?"

I snorted, "Like he even knows what that means. Come on."

He looked at me, a sudden expression of worry on his face. "I haven't even met the guy. Do you think Konnie will be okay?"

"Ken was the one who found him, right?" I asked. "He wouldn't have picked someone he didn't think would look after him."

"Yeah… you're right," Brooklyn said with a small smile. He nodded to himself as he hooked his arm through mine. "At least we know he's definitely not going to get lost."

I scoffed as I led him out of the room. He didn't see the grateful look Yamaguchi gave me as we left the room.

I still couldn't believe I was actually doing the man a favour.

-o-

Brooklyn stared at the frozen lake, his teal eyes wide with delight. I'd brought him to a park—I hadn't been lying about the weather actually being nice for once. It was still ridiculously cold but it wasn't snowing and the sun was out, albeit ineffective in doing the whole warming thing it's supposed to do.

"Ken spoke to you then?"

I looked over at Brooklyn, a little shocked to hear the calculating tone in his voice and more than a little shocked to see the shrewdness in his eyes. While we'd walked there we'd talked about meaningless things, It had been nice to switch off during a conversation with Brooklyn rather than being constantly aware of everything he did. It had felt almost... normal.

That time was apparently over.

I shifted uncomfortably. "He told me what happened," I said eventually, refusing to meet those eyes that suddenly saw too much.

"What do you think?" Brooklyn asked, sitting down on a bench that faced the lake. In a milder season, people would be able to sit there and feed the ducks that lived in the lake. But not now.

I sighed, "About?" I sat down next to him, noticing that he didn't automatically move to rest against me.

"Ken. The article. Me." He listed, his voice indifferent but his eyes telling me he was paying attention to every word.

"Ken's a big boy. He's angry at you but he'll do his job and protect you as best he can." I said after a few moments pause. As far as I was concerned, that was true. Ken would do everything in his power to protect Brooklyn's career. "The article... well, you could have seen that coming. Not that surprising." I shrugged and looked over at Brooklyn.

Winter seems to kill colour. First the cold kills anything bright and green, then snow covers the world in a blinding blanket of white. Even the gentler light of winter has an effect on colour, desaturating everything until it all seems to be varying shades of grey.

Against that background, Brooklyn was breathtaking. His bright orange hair contrasted so strongly with his surroundings he almost look ethereal. And those _eyes_. I've already waxed on about the beauty of his eyes and the way they captivated me. But with those eyes he fooled the world. Their colour made him look so innocent and harmless. Behind them, however, lay a mind that was so sharp it hurt its owner.

In that moment as I sat on the bench, looking over at Brooklyn and trying to work him out. In that moment—

He was perfect.

"Bryan?"

I blinked as the moment was shattered and once again it was just Brooklyn sitting on the bench and looking at me expectantly.

"Hm?" I asked.

"You kind of drifted off there for a second. What were you thinking about?" He asked with a smile, turning to look out at the lake again.

"Not much," I said with a shrug. "Just things." I sighed, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About?"

"What do you think?"

He sighed and looked down at the ground. I wasn't expecting guilt on his face- if he'd felt guilty he would have told me earlier. I wasn't even expecting any kind of regret at having dealt such a blow to his career or for having upset his manager. But I was expecting something. Instead, Brooklyn's face was neutral, "It didn't seem important."

"_How_ is that not important, Brooklyn? Yamaguchi's having a small aneurysm back there."

Brooklyn smirked, "I thought that you didn't like him? Isn't that a good thing then?"

"I don't. But he's worried because he doesn't know how this will affect your career. Doesn't that worry you at all?" I asked. "What are you going to do if no one will hire you?"

"Probably whatever else turns up," Brooklyn said, looking over at me with a bored expression on his face. "It's worked for me before."

I could feel frustration beginning to rise. I closed my eyes for a second, firmly pushing it back down. I looked at Brooklyn and saw that recognition and knowledge in his eyes. He knew how I was feeling and he knew why. He understood completely.

"It won't come to that, Bryan." He said eventually, giving me a small smile. "All we have to do will be to release a statement saying that my remarks were taken out of context and that I'm very sorry that they were interpreted in that way."

"And are you?" I asked.

He smirked, "No. She walked into that interview with one goal in mind. She wanted to get a story about the way the modelling industry negatively affects body image but she came under the pretence of doing a fluff piece. No matter what I said she would have interpreted it in that light." He shrugged, "So I told her the truth. They say it sets you free, you know."

I'd heard that. But sometimes the truth hurts too much for the paltry prize of freedom.

* * *

Please tell me what you think.


	10. Reality Nibbles

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Big thanks to **phoenixandtiger** for being awesome and reviewing and being awesome :)**  
**

* * *

When I returned to work after I'd dropped Brooklyn off I did so with a lighter heart. Though whether that was because of Brooklyn's assurances or my lips still tingling from our last kiss outside the hotel was debatable.

I pushed open the door to be greeted by silence. I paused and looked around me, unease in my stomach. Even this late Jelena was normally there, lounging around and doing... actually, I have no idea what she normally spent her time doing. Mostly whenever I walked in she was busy playing with her hair or expertly twiddling her thumbs. There was a computer on the desk but, unless she was using it to provide backup for Sven and me, she never even turned it on. Not even to play the odd game of Solitaire.

I don't think her home was a very pleasant place to be—every now and again she'd come to work complaining about the newest insane thing her roommate had tried. Sometimes I think she even slept at the office in order to avoid going home.

But now she wasn't there and I couldn't hear her talking to Sven in the back room.

On her desk was a hastily scribbled note in Jelena's own version of chicken scrawl. I walked over to her desk to get a better look and so I could attempt to decipher it.

_We're at the hospital. I tried to call_

_-Jelena_

I stared at the note for a few seconds, going through all the reasons they could be at the hospital. I reached into my pocket to take out my phone. Dead. I swore colourfully—I'd meant to charge it but the whole ordeal with Iosif and the shopping centre had made me clean forget.

I reached for the phone on the desk and dialled Jelena's number from memory.

"_Bryan?"_ She answered, stress and fatigue colouring her voice.

"Yeah. What's happening? Why are you at the hospital?"

_"Sven. He's not badly hurt but it looks like a broken arm—maybe a few ribs,"_ she reported. It wasn't uncommon for one of us to be hurt in the line of duty. It was an occupational hazard; we knew the hospital staff by name.

But Brooklyn had been with me.

"What happened?" I asked, my grip on the phone tightening.

_"We knew Brooklyn's psycho would try contact next—we were just wrong about who he'd want to make contact with. He attacked Sven from behind..." _She paused, the sounds of the hospital in the background. _"Look, Bryan, can you come? He's asking for you."_

"I'll be there soon."

-o-

Sven greeted me with a cheerful grin and a waving cast, "Check it out! Its been a whole year since I got one of these! I'm expecting much wittier comments on this one. You've had a whole year to mature from the whole 'I'm with stupid' thing"

I smirked, at least he seemed to be in good spirits. "What happened?" I asked, folding my arms. Jelena had come to stand next to me.

"Bastard snuck up on me from behind." Sven shrugged, wincing as he moved his bruised-not broken-ribs. "It happened too fast for me to really register. One moment I was making my way back to the office and the next I was on the ground in a small universe of pain with the bastard's knee in my back and I couldn't move my arm anymore."

"You didn't even have time to defend yourself?" I whistled. "That's... incredible."

"I'm sure he appreciates your admiration." Sven deadpanned.

I smirked, "I'm not the one who got themselves into hospital because of some nobody who has nothing better to do than harass models."

He inclined his head, "Touché. It was weird though. It didn't feel like he wanted to hurt me. I was... collateral I think. Hurting me wasn't personal. It was just... what had to be done," He smiled and closed his eyes, "He told me something before he left—"

"—Wait, he just left you in the street?" I asked, surprised. "Did you see him at all?"

"Yeah—that's part of what gives me the idea that hurting me wasn't the goal in all of this. And no, by the time I could get up he was long gone. He smelled of cigarette smoke."

"Helpful."

"I don't see you in the hospital bed after our first and only encounter with him, Smartass," He snapped, a little of the pain and stress finally peeking through the easygoing mask he had in place.

"Sorry," I said sincerely. "What did he tell you?"

"That Brooklyn was dangerous—that he was doing this to help me in the long run. Also that you knew what this was about."

"He mentioned me by name?" I asked, a small bolt of fear running down my spine. "How does he know my name?"

"Probably the same way he knew your address. Probably the same way he knew Brooklyn's hotel. Probably the same way he knew what street I'd take to get back to the office. Research, planning, an unbalanced mind." Jelena chimed in.

"The usual suspects then," I said with a smile.

"Yeah, nothing drastic." Sven grinned. "Run of the mill, even"

"A walk in the park." I countered

"A piece of cake," he replied with a challenging grin.

"Easy as pie"

"Walking along Easy Street"

"..." I inclined my head in defeat. "I'm going to go to my apartment and pick up enough for the next few days. I'm going to stay in the office." If he was willing to go to these lengths to prevent Sven from guarding Brooklyn—especially considering how quickly and efficiently he'd taken out my partner—I didn't like my chances staying in my apartment.

"I've got a mattress set up in one of the back rooms. I'll show you." Jelena offered. "What about Brooklyn? Are we still doing this?"

I bit my lip to stop my immediate reaction of jumping down her throat for even suggesting that we abandon Brooklyn. We'd been worried when his psycho had shown that he knew how to break into the place Brooklyn was staying. Now he'd been proven to be able to take out a trained professional. Even if we decided to drop Brooklyn's case I couldn't walk away. And not just for personal reasons- now there was pride involved.

"We can't leave him now—what would that say about our service? We'll keep you safe until we don't feel like it anymore? Until it gets a little tough?"

Thankfully, Sven has got a few pride issues as well.

"No—but now you're out of commission we've only got Bryan and me." Jelena reasoned.

"Hey! I'm not out of commission! I could—"

"—club the guy over the head with your new accessory?" I asked, indicating his shiny new cast. "You couldn't do anything while you were able-bodied, what would you do now? You're out, Sven."

"Like you would have done any better."

I shrugged. "We won't ever know, will we? As it stands, we still have a job to do."

"But can you do it?" Sven asked. "We only just worked out how we could do this around yours and Brooklyn's... whatever it is... can you maintain your professionalism? If you can't he may as well go without us—it'd probably be safer for him."

"I'll just have to stay professional, won't I?" I shrugged. "It's not like I have much choice. No offense to Jelena," I looked over at her before continuing, "but she's not a fighter. So the only one who's physically capable of being on point is me. I'll just have to get over it."

"Over him?" Sven asked curiously.

"Over the fact I can't molest him while I'm protecting him." I said with a smirk.

Jelena made a face, "Nice."

"It is."

I ignored the joint sounds of Sven and Jelena protesting that they didn't need to hear that. "I'm going to go back to my apartment. I'll meet you at the office in a few hours?" I looked at Jelena who nodded her acquiescence.

I walked to the door of the room, nodding to a nurse who was coming into the room to check on Sven. She rolled her eyes at Sven, a small smile on her face, "What have you done now?"

I left my partner to explain as I walked into the hallway.

I've always hated hospitals. Something about the smell of antiseptic and the too-bright, easily cleanable surfaces put me on edge. Hospitals remind me of my childhood while I was under the watchful eye of That Man. Thankfully I didn't actually spend that much time in the hospital wings at the Abbey. Whenever they hurt me they didn't do so in order to damage—only to inflict pain. They had reasoned that in order to maximise my savagery they couldn't leave me unable to defend myself.

They may have regretted that the first few times I sent_ them_ to the hospital wing. But they achieved their goals.

-o-

I opened the door to my apartment and froze. Something wasn't right. I did a quick check of my surroundings. Nothing had changed since I'd left it that morning on my way to the shopping centre of doom. Nothing had been moved or taken. The walls were still an interesting brown colour and that smell still permeated the place.

But... There was still something that wasn't right.

I closed the door quietly behind me, flicking my wrist so my knife fell into my hand. I'd learned to trust my instincts—even if they weren't correct it was better to be safe than sorry. I took a few cautious steps into the room, my ears alert for any noise, any movement of air, anything.

"Why are you protecting him?"

I felt the sharp prick of a knife against the base of my spine, ready to plunge in and sever my spinal cord. The voice came from behind my left ear. I recognised that voice. It was the voice that had preceded some of the worst times in my life. It had also been around in some of the best. The owner of the voice had never been a constant fixture in my life but had always been there as a kind of background noise, only overtly stepping into my life when it suited him.

"Kai?" I asked, turning my head slowly to look at the man standing behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Drop your knife and then we'll talk." Kai said reasonably, his knife firm against my skin. His deep red eyes left no room for argument.

"Dropping," I said, crouching slowly to place my knife on the ground. "Now do you want to tell me what you're doing here?" I asked. I knew Kai wouldn't hurt me. We didn't exactly have the most... amenable relationship but it wasn't dislike between us. Kai and I simply approached our problems differently. I tended to attack and think on the fly while Kai planned and strategized before making his first move. We thought differently and achieved our goals separately. It worked for us.

I felt the pressure of the knife disappear as Kai sheathed it, stepping back and allowing me to turn to face him.

It had been a few years since I'd last seen him. After we'd lost for the second time and proven that we no longer deserved to beyblade professionally, Kai had left us to rejoin his old team. There had been no apologies or regret, he had simply cut his losses and moved on. It was best not to become attached when Kai was involved. I think he had continued beyblading for a while after I'd quit but I'd lost track of him over the years.

The years since I'd seen him last had changed him. Even when Kai was at his most serious he always knew how to smile. He didn't do it often, mind you, but you knew that he knew how to. This older Kai looked like he had forgotten any emotion that wasn't related to determination. He still had those blue markings on his face that he was so fond of and his scarf still hung proudly from his neck, giving him an untouchable aura. But the Kai I had known was gone, replaced by this new one who seemed more unknowable than ever.

"Kai?" I asked, moving slowly to sit down at the small table I'd set up as a temporary measure when I had first moved into this apartment. I'd never gotten around to replacing it with something more substantial. "It's not that I don't appreciate someone breaking into my house and threatening me, because I do enjoy that, but what are you doing here?"

Kai folded his arms and leant against the door, accomplishing two things: blocking my exit and telling me that he wasn't there for a pleasant catch-up. "Why are you protecting him?"

"Who?"

His face changed from a mask of determination to something else. Something almost animal as he snarled, "_Brooklyn_."

I blinked. "Why am I protecting Brooklyn?" I asked, my mind working furiously as I began to put together the pieces. The fixation on Brooklyn, the messages, the bird, the way he had taken Sven so easily and, most damning, the heavy smell of fresh cigarette smoke that now assaulted my nose. "Why did you hurt Sven?" I asked carefully.

"The one with green hair who's been following him around for the past few days? He's too observant for his own good, that one."

"One of his charms," I said with a nod. "Why did you hurt him?"

"I didn't hurt him seriously."

"You _broke_ his arm, Kai." I said reproachfully. "You left him there in the cold still hurting too much to move. You may not have intended to hurt him badly but you did."

"He'll recover. And now he's away from...him. He's safe. You should be thanking me." Kai said levelly, looking around my apartment. "You really need to clean this place. It's disgusting."

"Was that an offer?" I challenged. "Sorry I don't meet your high expectations in the cleanliness stakes. I've been busy protecting my client from some stalker whose _modus operandi_ is to leave vaguely unsettling letters and, oddly enough, a bird. Recently he stepped up his game to attack and disable a trained bodyguard with little to no effort. I don't suppose you know anything about it?" I asked sarcastically. "What are you doing, Kai?"

"Protecting you. Protecting anyone involved in his stupid game." Kai said. I caught his crimson gaze as he said that. He was serious. More serious than I think I've ever seen him.

"What game?"

"The game he plays with the world." Kai pulled a magazine from where it had obviously been rolled and shoved into his pocket. "He's dangerous, Bry. He pretends that he's human but he's not. Under that mask he shows to the world there's something dark and twisted. We got a taste of it during the world championships and every now and again he loses control of it and it comes out." He threw the magazine, nodding toward it when I deftly caught it in one hand. "That article proves what I'm saying."

"You know that the article is a bunch of quotes taken so far out of context they might as well have shot them out to the moon, right? I was at that interview."

"And you didn't see anything odd?" Kai asked, a knowing tone in his voice.

I paused as I remembered. That calm as Brooklyn lead the hapless reporter through his trap. That knowledge he kept hidden behind his eyes as he helped steer the conversation to where she thought she wanted it to go. That cruelty as he ensnared her and cut her deeply with his words and his knowledge of her most private thoughts

That violence that had sung to me. That violence that had reared its head and unleashed its terrible beauty. That violence which I had recognised instantly as living within me as well.

"_You're just like me"_

Those words, whispered so passionately, chilled me.

Kai nodded at my silence. "Brooklyn is dangerous, Bry. He's living in such a spiral of hatred that all he can do is lash out and hurt those around him because hurting himself isn't enough."

"And the messages?"

"It's always best to keep your opponent off guard. I left some hints—"

"—The bird?" I asked, remembering how earlier that day I had compared Konnie's flashing orange wings to flames. The wings of a phoenix.

"—But mostly a scared opponent is a beaten opponent. How do you think I beat him before? He far excels my skills but the mask slipped last time and gave me my chance. And the more I push him this time, the more likely it is for his mask to slip and the world to see him for what he is."

"And that is?"

"Something we don't have a name for, Bry. Something so terrifying we didn't want to bring it into reality with our words."

Something that drew me to him. Something that made my soul sing with recognition and understanding.

"_You're just like me"_

Those words rang through my ears with as much power as they had had that night Brooklyn had whispered them to me, his voice husky with need and longing. I had fought them, I had run away from them.

I had accepted them.

"What do you hope to get out of exposing him?" I asked, keeping my thoughts carefully away from my face. "There's nothing to gain from making the world fear him."

"There's everything to gain from it." Kai patted his pockets, producing a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He offered the pack to me, shrugging and lighting up when I refused. He tucked the packet back into his pocket before taking a deep drag. He closed his eyes for a second before exhaling with a calm expression. "You forget, Bry, Brooklyn's not only hiding himself from the world."

"Who else is there to hide from?" I asked as the acrid scent of the smoke reached my nose. It was familiar—almost comforting. Tala had taken up the habit when we were young; That Man had hated the smell, he said that nicotine interfered with our training. The smell of cigarettes always reminded me of Tala's small rebellion. The only one we could hope to mount in those walls.

"Brooklyn hides from himself as much as he hides from the rest of the world. That's why he becomes so unstable whenever he's forced to reveal his true nature. He can't handle it." Kai took another drag, the ember at the tip glowing brightly and highlighting his all-too-focussed crimson eyes. "He'll be so desperate to escape, he'll destroy himself." Kai's lips formed into a bitter smile with no joy in it. "Then it'll be over."

"Then what will be over, Kai?" I demanded. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want to destroy Brooklyn?"

Kai sighed, putting his cigarette to his lips one last time and inhaling deeply before stubbing it out on the wooden floor. I would have protested but the floor was already so covered with similar marks there really was no point. "Because it's the only way I can exist."

"What does that even _mean_ Kai?" I asked, standing. He said it like there was no choice. Like destroying Brooklyn was something that simply had to be done. Like he wasn't contemplating murdering the only person who would ever understand me. Like murdering Brooklyn was the right and correct course of action.

More worrying than all of that, as he said this there was no gleam of madness nor look of obsession in his eyes. This was still the calm, strategically-minded Kai I'd always known. The only difference was that he looked like he had learned that any happiness in this world was only a façade and the only true emotion was pain.

"You can't do this, Kai. I can't let you. You know that, right? Whatever your reasons you can't do this." I heard myself say as I took a few steps toward him, still trying to figure out what had changed, why Kai was like this.

"Is that because of your professional responsibilities or because you don't want me to take away your new fuck-buddy?" The profanity dripped from his lips like a special kind of poison, sounding so out of place coming from someone who placed so much stock in calm and control. Kai's eyes met mine in challenge. "I know, Bry. I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. You follow him because you think you've found something special. He lets you trail behind him so he can feel like his mask is still intact."

My eyes narrowed, a slow heat of anger building inside me. "You know nothing about us. You don't know anything."

Kai laughed, a bitter bark, as he lit up another cigarette. "I know more than you want to believe. That's why I know that Brooklyn needs to disappear."

"Why not kill him yourself, then?" I asked sarcastically. "Why bother with this whole charade of destroying him mentally?"

Kai's eyebrows snapped together in an annoyed frown. "Haven't you been paying attention? He's stronger and smarter and more skilful than I could ever fathom let alone hope to be. He's more powerful than even he knows." Kai's voice held a hint of fanaticism, of obsession. He nodded as he inhaled deeply, the cigarette between his lips turning to ash faster than I'd ever thought possible. "The only one who can destroy Brooklyn is himself."

"I won't let you do this. Regardless of my relationship with Brooklyn you can't do this. You can't murder Brooklyn for some ridiculous reason like that. You can't hurt people because you think you're doing what's best for them. You have no right!"

Kai's eyes hardened. That was the only warning I got before he flicked his spent cigarette at me and moved, hooking his leg around mine and jerking it forward, bringing me to my knees. He dealt me two swift blows to my stomach before hitting me across my shoulders and stepping away when I hit the ground, gasping for air.

"I have _no right_?" He all but hissed at me. "_I_ have no right? You know_ nothing._ You know _nothing_ about my right to do this. If anything I'm the _only_ person who has right." He took off his jacket and flung it on the ground, revealing arms which, when I had known them, had been pure, untouched white. Now ugly scars covered them, new ones layered upon old in a patchwork of red and white. There was no part of his skin that was unmarked. The sensitive skin that covered his wrists was the worst affected area. "I have every right to destroy him like he tried to destroy me."

My eyes traced the scars before finally travelling up to meet Kai's gaze. He nodded once, "I know why you're following him. I know why he attracts you. I've been there and I paid for it." He sighed and folded his arms, hiding the worst of the scars. "They don't stop at my arms." He said, closing his eyes before opening them again, a renewed fire in his eyes. "Don't make the same mistake I did, Bry. You're not the one he's looking for. You're just entertainment for that monster that lives inside of him. The only way forward is to destroy Brooklyn."

_Teal eyes that shine with innocence but miss nothing_. _Hair that brings colour back into the world. Lips pressing against my ear whispering_.

"_You're just like me."

* * *

_

I'm a sucker for psychopath!Kai. I just can't help myself.

Please tell me what you think_  
_


	11. Living Double

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Posting early this week because tomorrow is my 21st birthday! This means that I can officially drink and gamble everywhere in the world! Woot! Life is good.

And with this chapter I've finally admitted to myself that I need to up the rating.

* * *

I ran for the second time since this whole thing had started. At least this time I wasn't running away from something without a goal or destination in mind. This time I was running towards Brooklyn. I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I got to the hotel but I knew I needed to see him.

I kept seeing Kai's scars, red lines twisting their ugly path through once-unmarked skin. Seeing them and then looking back up at Kai's face with his red eyes that had long forgotten how to see beauty in the world had frightened me more than That Man ever could.

Kai and I had never been friends. If I had to pick a word for what we were I would have called us comrades. Comrades in arms. When our paths crossed we didn't work together but we did work harmoniously and I hadtrusted him with my life.

But now the boy I had known had turned into a man that was more dead than alive. A man more driven by determination than by a will to live. Once Kai achieved his goal of destroying Brooklyn so he couldn't hurt anyone else, I had a feeling that Kai would disappear as well. There was nothing else keeping him going but determination and pain.

So now I ran to Brooklyn.

When Yamaguchi answered the door I pushed past him, my eyes already searching out Brooklyn. "Where?" I demanded.

I'm unsure whether it was my tone of voice or my slightly-too-wide eyes that made him answer me straight away, pointing wordlessly toward the closed door of Brooklyn's bedroom suite.

It was only then that I realised how late it was. I mentally shrugged, I needed answers now.

I opened the door and closed it firmly behind me, reaching out beside me and feeling for the light switch.

Brooklyn beat me to it, clicking his bedside lamp on and looking at me through sleepy eyes. He was in a loose T-shirt and the bedclothes were still neat around him, like he'd only just gone to bed. "Bryan?" he asked, running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "Why are you here?" He blinked a few times as his eyes focussed, a hint of their regular keenness coming back into them. "What's wrong?"

"I just spoke with Kai."

Brooklyn blinked. "Oh," he said simply

"Oh? _Oh_? Is that all you have to say?" I demanded, walking toward the redhead until I stood next to his impossibly large bed. "What happened to him? What did you _do_ to him?"

A look of what might have been shame crossed his features as he looked down at the hotel blankets. He moved his hand over them slowly, tracing out the horrible floral pattern. "What did he tell you?" He asked quietly before looking up at me with expectant but sad eyes.

"He showed me his scars," I said slowly, sitting down on the bed. Brooklyn's hands paused in their movements before resuming once my weight had settled. "He said that you'd done that to him."

"Do you believe him?" Brooklyn asked, looking up at me through eyelashes I now realised were ridiculously long. "Do you think I could do that to a person?"

"I—" I started before forcing myself to look away from those eyes. "I don't know, Brooklyn. I genuinely don't know." I knew that in Brooklyn's heart, at the very centre of his being, there was something dark and twisted but I didn't know if that thing had the ability to not only subdue Kai but to do _that_ to him. To take away all the happiness in his world and leave him as a shell of something that used to be human. I didn't know if _anyone_ was capable of that.

I felt Brooklyn move before his arms wrapped around my shoulders, the redhead leaning against my back with his head resting gently on my shoulder. "Kai was..." He began before trailing off, burying his face in my back. After a few seconds he took a deep breath and tried again, "Kai was the first person I loved. I craved him like a man in a desert craves water. I needed him in a way that he never needed me."

"He didn't give me that impression."I said, leaning back against him, enjoying his solidity despite our conversation topic.

I felt him smile, his lips curving against my shoulder, "Kai never needed anybody. So I _made_ him need me."

"How?"

"Everyone has secrets. If you know them you can unlock people's hearts and understand them. Once you do that they will follow you into hell if that's what you want them to do." Brooklyn said with an air of detachment. "I found Kai's secrets and he needed me."

"That doesn't explain why he hates you so much, or his scars." I said, slightly chilled at the candid way Brooklyn described breaking Kai down until all he could do was do as Brooklyn desired. It was like he was talking about working out how a new toy worked. Like Kai wasn't a complex human being.

"I didn't do that to Kai." Brooklyn said very definitely. "He did that to himself."

I thought of those angry red lines, some livid and others faded, some denting the skin and others in raised welts covering his skin in patterns of desperation. I felt sick. I'd seen many terrible things in the Abbey because of That Man. I'd even been the cause of some of those things. But this was different. This was worse. "How? Why?" I asked.

Brooklyn's hand touched the side of my face and slowly turned my head so he could kiss me gently. I returned the kissed briefly before pulling away. "Why would he do that to himself?" I asked.

A small glint of that darkness surfaced in Brooklyn's eyes before he masked it with a shrug. "I don't know, Bryan. I know that once Kai needed me, I found I didn't need him anymore. For a while he hurt himself so I wouldn't walk away with his secrets. But..." He sighed and dropped his head so his eyes were buried in his shoulder and his lips brushed my back when he spoke, "I couldn't do it anymore. Kai wasn't the same person I'd fallen for. So I left him."

He sat up and pushed my shoulder so I turned to face him. I still didn't know how I was supposed to meet his eyes without looking away. "Bry, I—" He bit his lip, thinking about his next words. "What happened to Kai was my fault. I was the one who reduced him to the point where that became his only option."He looked away from me, his eyes bright with tears he refused to shed. "Kai would have been happy if it wasn't for me but—" here he met my eyes again, his face set, "—I wasn't the one who gave him those scars. I could never do that to anyone."

I sighed and nodded, still unsure about what to do. Kai was... he wasn't the person I had known since I was very young. He was the person Brooklyn had made him.

And now he was coming to destroy the only person I'd met who also nursed that dark demon of violence, the only person who could understand me.

"_You're just like me"_

Despite Kai's pain and despite his reasons for embarking on his quest I would stop him. I had to. I had to if I was going to protect Brooklyn. And I had to protect Brooklyn not only as a professional thing but also because I already couldn't imagine my world without him. Brooklyn had spoken of finding secrets to unlock people's hearts. Even without knowing my secrets Brooklyn held mine.

I reached for him, pulling him towards me and covering his mouth with my own in a kiss that I hoped conveyed what I was thinking.

Brooklyn sighed contentedly, running his hands through my hair and returning my kiss. My hands began to play with the shirt that left far too much to the imagination for my liking. I slipped one hand underneath it to slide up his back, loving the way his skin jumped at the feel of my cold hand. I felt Brooklyn's lips quirk into a smile against mine as I took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, earning myself a quiet moan from the redhead.

I pushed him down on to the bed, my lips never leaving his as I tried to memorise everything there was to remember about that moment. The exact taste of Brooklyn's lips, the exact contours of his mouth, the exact way his body moulded against mine in a way that was both demanding and compliant.

A small sound of complaint and a supple body pressing against mine reminded me that I wasn't allowed to stop. I smirked and allowed my hands to continue wandering, moving to his front. Brooklyn's chosen career meant that he always had to be in peak physical condition which, on him, translated into tight muscles stretched over his slender frame. Brooklyn was no one's definition of muscular but his body was well-toned. A fact that my hands discovered in their explorations, encouraged by small sounds from Brooklyn whenever I discovered a particularly sensitive or ticklish part.

I left Brooklyn's mouth to trail a line of kisses down his jawline until I reached the smooth column of his neck. He gasped when I attached myself to one point of his neck, right above his pulse. I smirked as I felt that tiny vibration flutter erratically as I licked, nibbled and sucked that point, leaving my mark on his otherwise flawless skin.

_Skin covered with angry red lines. All self-inflicted_.

I froze as the image of Kai's ruined skin overlapped with my admiration of Brooklyn's perfect porcelain skin. Brooklyn wriggled underneath me, not knowing why I'd stopped. "Bryan?" He asked, one hand still gripped in my hair while the other had begun exploring. Currently, it rested against my tailbone with fingers splayed, dipping slightly under the waistband of my pants.

I shook my head, ridding myself of the image. Now I was with Brooklyn. Nothing else mattered. Not Kai. Not anything. "It's nothing."

Brooklyn smirked as he brought both arms to wrap comfortably around my neck, lifting his hips to grind them slowly but roughly against mine. His smirk softened into a smile at the low moan that forced its way out of my throat. "_That's_ not nothing." He whispered into my ear, tongue darting out to trace the outline of the shell of my ear.

"You're wearing too many clothes" I growled back, my hands once again grabbing at the flimsy material that separately me from appreciating at least Brooklyn's top half.

Brooklyn laughed quietly, obligingly letting go of my neck and helping me to take off his shirt. "Better?" he asked, his teal eyes sparkling over flushed cheeks.

I opted to answer him through action, pausing at his neck to give my mark one last possessive lick before kissing my way down his collarbone and down his chest, detouring to nip and suck at one of his nipples.

"Bry—" He gasped breathlessly as my hand ghosted up his chest to tweak and play with the other nipple. My other hand traced ever lowering patterns down his side, delighted to find that he had only been wearing boxers underneath that wholly unnecessary shirt.

My fingers danced along the waistband of the boxers before continuing over the material. They skimmed over the obvious bulge in his pants and continued their journey down his inner thigh. I smirked as I felt a shudder of pleasure run through his body. I left his nipple with one last kiss before continuing to trail my way down his body until my lips reached the waistband of his boxers.

"B-Bry—" He whispered with his eyes half closed, their teal depths darkened with lust.

I slid up his body to give his lips one more searing kiss before sitting back to remove my own clothes. I felt Brooklyn's hands bat mine away as I tried to undo the buttons on my shirt. Brooklyn smirked at me as he began undoing each button, pausing after each one to give the newly revealed skin a kiss that made my eyes flutter closed.

He removed my shirt after what felt like a delicious forever, a small smile on his face as he studied me. He leaned forward to press his lips against mine as his hands fumbled with my belt, taking longer than I thought I could hold on to unbuckle the thing and fling it off the side of the bed. My pants followed quickly after that.

I pushed Brooklyn down on to the bed again, loving the feeling of his smooth, unblemished skin against mine. I kissed him as I ground my hips against his, earning myself a thick, lust-filled moan from him. One of his legs wrapped around my own to pull me closer, increasing the friction. I bit my lip to keep from crying out loud, instead opting to lean down and claim his lips again. This was mine. This moment of perfection with Brooklyn.

As I pulled down his boxers, smiling at his soft whimper, my suspicions were confirmed. As his hands, still firmly tangled in my hair, began to guide my head downwards I heard him whisper so softly I wouldn't have heard it if I wasn't waiting for it.

"Mine. You are mine."

"_You're just like me"_

-o-

A low groan from Brooklyn woke me up. I opened my eyes slowly to look down at the mass of orange hair that was comfortably snuggled into my chest. I blinked a few times as a soft but constant beeping entered my consciousness.

"What's that?" I asked, turning my head to find the source. It wasn't a loud beep but now I was aware of it I couldn't stop hearing it.

Brooklyn sighed, an arm snaking out to hit something on his bedside table. "Alarm," he moaned, bringing his arm back and burying his head further into my chest. "We have to get up," he said. The feel of his lips moving against my skin making me smile.

"Why?" I asked, running my hand absently through his hair. "Can't we just sleep?"

Brooklyn moved to look at me, his chin still resting on my chest as he bit his lip in thought. "The last time I tried that, Ken literally kicked me out of bed." His nose wrinkled at the thought. "It wasn't pleasant."

"So we should get up then."

"...Yeah." His eyes dimmed for a second before brightening, a small grin on his face. "Kiss me first?" He asked, shimmying up my body until his face was level with mine.

I pretended to consider it before taking hold of his shoulders and rolling us so I lay on top of him. I smirked as his eyes widened in surprise. "Okay." I finally agreed, claiming his lips as my own.

Brooklyn pulled away, making a face. "Ugh! Morning breath!"

I smirked. "Oh! I'm soh-rry!" I said, making sure he received the full force of the dreaded breath.

He giggled and batted me away from him. "Come on, we need to wake up."

I sighed and rested my forehead on his shoulder. "Do we get a shower before Yamaguchi tries to join in on the party?"

_That_ was a mental image I wouldn't be able to get rid of for a while.

"Might be an idea." Brooklyn said, wrinkling his nose at te musky scent our... activities had caused the night before. "If you're really good I'll even let you join me."

I kissed the side of his jaw, smirking when his eyes fluttered shut for just a second. "I'm always good."

"I don't doubt it."

-o-

When I emerged from the bathroom, half-heartedly drying my hair and feeling particularly pleased with myself that Brooklyn hadn't _quite_ worked out how to walk again, I was greeted with a full-force glare from Yamaguchi.

I blinked, glad I'd had the forethought to put on pants while I was in the bathroom. "...Yes?" I asked cautiously.

He pointed to the clock beside Brooklyn's decidedly rumpled bed. It glared at the world with its angry red lights telling us that Brooklyn and I had been in the shower for almost an hour.

"Brooklyn has an interview in an hour. He will be out of this room in five minutes and he will be ready to work." Yamaguchi said quietly, no anger in his voice, just command.

Out of long-ingrained habit, I ducked my head. "Yes, Sir."

His eyes swept over my half-clothed body, his upper lip curling into a sneer. "And get some clothes on. You'll be there in _your_ professional capacity." He paused, "assuming you're still capable of that."

I nodded again, self-consciously folding my arms across my bare chest. "Yes, Sir."

Yamaguchi nodded once before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"What was that about?" Brooklyn asked, poking his head out of the bathroom his cheeks were flushed for a reason not related to the steaming hot temperature of his shower.

"Get dressed," I said, finishing drying my hair and searching for my shirt. "You've got an interview to get to and Yamaguchi's given us five minutes."

Brooklyn swore as he ducked back into the bathroom, emerging a minute later completely dry and looking fresher than I have ever looked in my life. Also, naked. Can't forget naked.

He smiled at my half-buttoned shirt and swiftly finished the job, his hands moving faster than I could see. He tried to smooth out the wrinkles in my shirt before shrugging, giving it up as a lost cause. He walked to his cupboard and produced a black tie, throwing it at me without looking; He was too busy selecting clothes for himself with the practised eye of a professional.

"That jacket you were wearing yesterday is too informal. We'll ask around when we get out there if anyone has a suit jacket that might be your size." He paused to look at me with an appraising eye. "Ken might have something. He's ridiculously short but that's only his legs. His torso is about your size. Maybe a little narrower around the waist," he mused as he pull on underwear and found a pair of white pants that clung to his legs in all the right places. "Either that or one of the other ones will have something."

I nodded as I finished tying the tie Brooklyn had thrown at me. He'd given me one that was thicker than normal, drawing the eye away from the wrinkled shirt and my overall rumpled appearance.

When I looked up at Brooklyn again he had already thrown on a singlet and a shirt and was hunting through his cupboard to find a long white jacket with a high collar, similar to the one he had worn in the world championships. He shrugged it on and quickly did up the buttons, ignoring the various buckles and letting them hang free, swaying against his body whenever he moved. He appraised himself in the mirror as he did up the high collar, nodding in satisfaction when he saw that it only just hid the deep red mark I'd left on his neck.

He ran a hand through his hair, contemplating himself for a few more seconds before shrugging and

digging into his pocket to pull out a pair of gloves. He pulled them on to complete the ensemble. He looked at me, mischief and intelligence in his eyes. "Are you ready?"

I blinked. I don't think I'd ever seen someone move so fast. I glanced over at the clock; It had been exactly four minutes since Yamaguchi had given his orders. In that time Brooklyn had gone from naked and flushed Sex God to fully-clothed and prepared to face the day Sex God.

Brooklyn smirked and nodded at my stunned look. "I'll take that as a yes." He opened up the door with a flourish, a bright smile on his face. "Does anyone have a black formal jacket that would fit Bryan?" He asked the group of people milling around the room.

There was a brief flurry of activity before a jacket was dutifully produced. Brooklyn smiled and thanked the lender before turning to me and helping me put the jacket on. It was a little tight around the shoulders but it gave me enough movement to do my job effectively. Brooklyn nodded to himself as he did up the buttons, leaving the ones at the bottom undone. "That's better. You look all official now."

He bit his lip for a second, looking sideways at the people in the room before coming to a decision. He darted up to give me a brief peck on the corner of my mouth. He smiled a satisfied smile as he turned to face Yamaguchi.

"Time!" The little man said, turning to face the rest of Brooklyn's entourage. "Annd we're leaving!"

I stared as Brooklyn and the rest of the people around him all calmly filed out of the room, like the madness I'd just witnessed was a normal everyday occurrence.

"You might need this." I felt the familiar weight of a gun being pushed into me hand. I blinked and looked over at Jelena who was smiling knowingly. "I'm guessing that you weren't thinking about weaponry when you came over here last night."

I smirked as I accepted the holster she passed me as we made our way after the group of people led my Yamaguchi. "Not so much, how's Sven?"

"Demanding jelly from the nursing staff constantly so he can amuse himself by watching it wibble." Jelena said, rolling her eyes. "He's having a great time."

"I'm glad to hear it." I said with a smile, holstering the gun underneath my jacket. I accepted the two spare magazines she gave me and tucked them into my borrowed jacket as well. I debated whether or not to tell her about my encounter with Kai.

"Now I've scouted out the location of this interview. I'll be hanging out with the rest of the hanger-ons while Brooklyn does that then his schedule's free for the rest of the day." She gathered her hair in her hands and pulled it into a loose pony tail, smiling at me. "Can I count on you to do your job properly? Especially given whatever happened last night?"

"And what would that be?" I asked innocently as we raced down the stairs having missed catching the elevator with everyone else.

"Keep it that way, Mr Secrets." She said with a nod. "If anything goes down at the interview I'll be running strategy. I need you on your game. Whoever this guy is, he took out Sven." A glint of anger showed in her eyes before being replaced by a cool professionalism. "Sven says that he thinks he's lost a little bit of feeling in his hands. Nothing serious, he doesn't think, but the break may have damaged some nerves." She looked over at me, "If that's true he might not be able to do this anymore."

I decided then that I wouldn't tell her about Kai. As much as I wanted to stop him I couldn't let Jelena kill him in the way her eyes were promising.

-o-

"So are you taking back what you said about the modelling industry's effects on children?" A different reporter regarded Brooklyn with shrewd green eyes that were partially obscured by her thick-framed glasses. She was from a more serious publication than the last reporter. Provided that Brooklyn behaved himself, any opinions expressed in this magazine would immediately usurp the previous article's. Yamaguchi had chosen well.

Brooklyn looked surprised. "What?" He asked innocently, "No! Of course not. But my comments were taken severely out of context in that interview."

"So you don't dismiss the negative effects of the unattainable image we're presenting our children with?"

Brooklyn smiled, looking down at himself. "I wouldn't call the image I represent _unattainable_- I mean, I'm sitting in front of you, aren't I? What I meant was that I believe there are much more harmful things out there. I wouldn't be in this industry if I thought I was hurting people... or myself, for that matter."

"Ever the good Samaritan, I see," she said with an indulgent, insincere smile.

That flash of intelligence crossed Brooklyn's face as he considered the woman in front of you. "Tell me, how did you get where you are today?"

She paused, considering the question. "Lots of school. Lots of sleepless nights. A bit of luck and a lot of effort, why?"

"Are there people who you've met in your field who you think have taken it too far? Who pursue their goals with such relentless fervour that they will only ever achieve mediocrity?"

She looked down, a small smirk on her face before it was once again replaced with her cool façade of a reporter hunting for answers. Brooklyn had found the key he needed. "Of course- that's one of the traps you have to avoid for success."

"It's the same in my job. Those emaciated models aren't beautiful by anyone's standards except their own. They're caught in that mediocrity because they haven't learned that being healthy and keeping things in perspective are the two most important aspects of success. It's not my profession that portrays this unhealthy image, the same way those people trying too hard and struggling to achieve what they can never hope to achieve do not represent your profession very well. Most successful models are healthy people who know that if they don't look after themselves their body will fail them and they will be trapped in that mediocrity we all hope to avoid."

She smiled and nodded, making a few notes on her pad and checking to make sure her recorder was still on. "Of course—but you can see how those comments might have been taken out of context?"

Brooklyn closed his eyes and nodded, a look of regret on his face. "I know. And I'm sorry for that. I just don't understand the negative image we're always painted with. We're not bad people, you know."

"You just happen to be more attractive than the rest of us?"

"Or I just decided to capitalise on something I was born with. Just like you capitalise on your ability to write well and your analytical mind. I read your article on the state of the Russian prison system, by the way. It was insightful. I've always wondered, how do you get such access to the prisoners? Surely the guards know you're not there to write a fluff piece."

And he had her.

I sighed and stopped concentrating on what Brooklyn was saying to do another sweep of the room. Everyone was simply milling around, trying to give the reporter enough space to do her job while still very definitely being _there_. I made a mental note to talk to Yamaguchi about the number of people Brooklyn brought with him. It was wholly unnecessary and only opened him up to threats. And with Kai one could never be too cautious.

-o-

Brooklyn grinned as we walked out of the building. "Ken tells me that I'm free for the rest of the day! Free!" He spread his arms wide and looked upwards, enjoying the feeling of the cold winter sun on his face. "So, Bodyguard of mine," he said, giving me an approving look and brushing some imaginary snow off my shoulders, "What shall we do with the rest of our time?"

I smirked as I looked into those teal depths, pulling him toward me so my body pressed against his. "I think we should—"

A glint in the corner of my eye made me look up. Kai, his face set in a mask of calm and determination as he pointed a dark, metallic object in our direction.

"Get down!" I shouted, throwing myself on top of Brooklyn as a loud _crack _shattered the peace of the moment.

* * *

Sexytime AND a cliffhanger! I'm just too kind, too kind.

Birthday reviews? You know you want to :)

Please tell me what you think


	12. Shattered Truths

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Do you want to know a secret? Life is amazing.

Jus' sayin'

* * *

"Are you hurt?" I demanded, my hands already automatically checking Brooklyn's body for any injuries.

I could see the whites of Brooklyn's eyes. Despite his usual demeanour of calm and collectedness, he couldn't have predicted this. His world wasn't supposed to happen in this way. "N-no-" He managed,his chest heaving as he fought off panic. "I—"

"Breathe. Calm down." I said as soothingly as possible, rubbing his back gently and trying to see where Kai was. He tried to do what I told him, taking deep gulps of air. I could feel his entire body shaking against mine.

I spotted Jelena, pressed against a nearby car with her gun drawn, her eyes wildly searching for our attacker. I beckoned her over, waiting a minute for her to scramble over to us, keeping as low as possible.

"Is he hurt?" She demanded when she reached us. She studied Brooklyn; He had made himself as small as possible against me, his breathing calmer but all colour gone from his skin.

"No. I need you to stay with him. I'm going after the shooter."

She nodded once and waited for me to untangle myself from Brooklyn's hold. He was disturbingly unresisting as I passed him over. She swiftly gathered him into her arms and held him securely with their backs to a wall. "Go," she said to me, her gun once again at the ready and her eyes scanning for threats. At my hesitation, she looked up at me with meaningful eyes "_Go!_"

I nodded and moved, struggling to put Brooklyn firmly out of my mind. I couldn't do my job if I was worried about him. I couldn't function if all I could think about was the way he had recovered from his initial panic and had immediately slipped into silent staring over my shoulder. While I had waited for Jelena I had almost wished he was hyperventilating again. At least I knew how to deal with that. The staring was something different. Brooklyn had retreated into himself and I didn't know how to bring him out again..

I almost slipped on a deceptively small pool of blood. The sound of ragged breathing forced itself into my world where I had blocked out almost every other sound. I glanced down to see the reason Brooklyn had frozen, looking up at me with frightened eyes.

Yamaguchi.

I swore and knelt down beside the man trying to hold in the blood bubbling from the wound in his chest. I knocked his hands away and applied pressure to the wound but... he was already too far gone for me to do much. His breathing had turned into a gurgling sound from the blood in his lungs.

I have watched many people die. I've killed some of them myself and been instrumental in the deaths of others. But it is never easy to watch someone's face go through the full spectrum of emotions as they realise that not only are they dying, they are dying in a great deal of pain surrounded by people who might mourn you but not in the deep way people want to be mourned they are gone. In his eyes I watched him cycle from confusion to shock to outrage to fear to panic and finally despair and acceptance. Those two emotions that are instantly recognisable on anyone's face but are the hardest ones to look at.

I forced myself to look. It's the worst insult one man can give another to refuse to watch those last moments, dismissing them before the world has its chance to dismiss another existence. So I watched as Yamaguchi struggled out his last breath and died, quietly and without comment. I watched and bowed my head for a second before I stood, the blood on my hands feeding the violent rage inside of me. I retreated into its familiar embrace

"Kai!"

I felt a bullet whizz past my head, ruffling my hair in its wake. I turned to face the man who had shot it. It was evident that had just been a warning shot. Kai did not miss. Not at such a close range. Not at any range.

Kai stood with his gun pointed steadily at me. He still wore his scarf but had ditched the jacket in favour of a sleeveless shirt despite the bitter cold. The colour leeching properties of winter only served to make his scars stand out more grotesquely. "Wrong choice, Bry." He said, squeezing off another two rounds before ducking for cover and running into one of the nearby buildings.

I felt the bullets just miss me again, their paths leaving burns against my skin but no actual wounds. I frowned, confused. _Kai did not miss_.

Unless he intended to miss me.

"Bryan! The building on your left. The one with the green door."

I glanced up at the rooftops. Somehow Jelena had made Brooklyn move and now they were sitting on top of the building Brooklyn had done his interview in. True to her word, Jelena was providing backup as best she could given that she also had to look after the redhead.

"Get him outside again! I can't help you while he's inside!"

I raised an arm to indicate that I'd heard her before looking around, holding my gun at the ready.

I found the door she was pointing to and ran towards it, my mind filled with that dark violence. On a more rational day I might have considered how to capture Kai alive but at that point all I could think about was how badly I needed to see him bleed. It didn't matter that he'd shown me some kind of misguided mercy.

I hadn't even _liked_ Yamaguchi. He certainly hadn't liked me very much. But his death had hurt Brooklyn and because of Kai I wasn't even able to find out how badly he was hurt. Instead I had had to delegate that job to Jelena.

Kai had to pay for that.

I wrenched open the green door and strode inside the house, snarling. Kai would pay.

A blinding pain across the back of my head made me stumble forward. A swift kick that landed on my tailbone brought me to my knees.

"Mindless aggression gets you nowhere, Bry." Kai's soft voice told me. "That's the second time you've rushed in without checking behind you." I tried to push myself up but was prevented by a booted foot placed squarely in the middle of my back.

I snarled and rolled, the unexpected movement causing Kai to lose his balance. I helped him along his way by catching hold of his leg as I moved, smiling savagely when I heard the impact of his fall. I didn't give him time to recover as I moved quickly over to him and, holding his shoulder down with one hand, hit his face twice, splitting open his cheek, the red blood mingling with his blue face paint.

He moved quickly, bringing one knee up and using it as leverage to flip me off him. I landed painfully, my hands breaking the fall as much as possible before I thudded on to the ground face down. He stood unsteadily, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. It anything it only made it worse, the red now staining more of his face and dripping down to stain his once-pure-white scarf.

I felt his knee digging painfully into my back as I lay there, still struggling to catch my breath. I stopped breathing altogether when I felt the sharp edge of a knife pressed against the side of my neck, next to my jugular.

"Listening now?"

I couldn't move without risking hurting myself so I chose instead to simply stare ahead of me, trying desperately to push aside the instinct that was telling me to attack no matter what and instead trying to think clearly and rationally.

"I don't want to hurt you, Bry. We go back a bit too far for me to take anything but sadness from killing you." The knife moved from its position beside my neck to press gently on the back of my neck, between two vertebrae. All Kai had to do was press downwards and I would be gone. "That's not to say I won't."

The change in the knife's position meant I still couldn't move but I could talk. I swallowed, trying to coat my dry throat so I could speak with my voice sounding normal. "What are you looking to achieve?" I asked. "I'm not going to change my position so if you're looking to convert me to your way of thinking you're wasting your time. Just kill me like the murderer you are."

I hadn't liked Yamaguchi but that didn't make his death right or even acceptable. If I was okay with murder, That Man would have been cold in the ground years ago.

"Not yet. Even when you're not on my side you help me get closer to my goal." Kai made a small sound of amusement, the knife moving just a fraction downwards and piercing my skin. My eyes narrowed but I still didn't dare move. That initial rush of aggression and adrenaline had faded and left behind rational thinking. Unfortunately rational thinking was telling me I was completely at Kai's non-existent mercy.

"Stupid, Bry. You like to think you're not the same. You're wrong, you know. You're just like me."

Those words, said by a different voice in a different situation. They still chilled me.

A blinding white pain made the world go black.

-o-

I came to maybe a few minutes after Kai had knocked me out. I groaned quietly and pushed myself to my knees, looking around blearily. Kai was long gone. I noticed on the floor the hilt of what had been my knife. The blade was shattered and the pieces strewn around the floor. Next to the hilt was a note, hastily scribbled in Kai's hand.

_It was more fragile than I thought. Funny how you can break some of the strongest, most deadly things in this world without much effort at all._

_Good luck_

_Kai_

I picked up the hilt of my ruined knife, scowling. Bastard had not only stolen it from my apartment the day before (was it only the day before?) but had had the nerve to attack me with my own weapon. _Then_ break it when he had no more use for him.

Before it had simply been aggression and a need to hurt him. Now it was turning into something much deeper.

I hated Kai Hiwatari.

My grip tightened around the hilt as I snarled at the shadows in the building. I hated the feeling of impotence I was left with. I had had my shot at him. Twice now I had been in close proximity. But through my own stupid mistakes Kai was still out there posing a danger to me and, more importantly, Brooklyn.

I flung the hilt at the nearest wall, smiling savagely when it hit and punctured a hole in the plaster. It didn't do anything useful but it had made me feel marginally better. Now at least I could think abou-

Shit! _Brooklyn_.

I ran out of that room into the open space of the street outside, ignoring the way the too-bright light blanked out my vision for a few seconds.

"Bryan!" Jelena waved from her rooftop. "We're all up here!"

I tried not to think about who 'we all' was as I ran through the doors of the building and quickly negotiated the stairs. When Kai had first started firing Brooklyn's entourage had made themselves pretty scarce, realising that Kai wasn't after them and that the safest place to be was _elsewhere._

Cowards.

Smart, but cowardly.

I reached the roof door and opened it, making sure to keep my hands in sight and away from my body, just in case if Jelena saw movement and got a little too jumpy. "It's me," I called, stepping on to the roof proper.

Jelena smiled and lowered the gun she had been aiming at the doorway. Behind her she had propped Brooklyn up against the small wall that enclosed the roof and... the reporter?

I blinked as I walked over to the small group. "Kai's gone. Why are you here?" I asked, suspicion evident in my voice.

She pushed her glasses up her nose, the only evidence that she's been through an ordeal was her hair, which was falling out of her once tightly slicked back ponytail. "I'm a reporter. This rooftop gave me the best view," she said with a callous shrug.

Jelena shot her a look before turning back to me, "Ease up, Bryan. She's just trying to sound tough. She helped get me and Brooklyn up here."

"Is he okay?" I asked, the reporter forgotten as I stepped past Jelena to get to Brooklyn. I crouched down beside him, cupping his cheek in one hand. "Brooklyn?"

His eyes flicked to mine, their brightness dulled by shock and sadness. "Is Ken alright?"

I looked away, unsure about how to answer. Brooklyn had seen his manager get shot and go down but he hadn't had to witness those last few minutes and see the life fade from his friend's eyes. I would be forever grateful for that. Finding my voice, I tried, "He died well."

"Oh." It was Brooklyn's turn to look away, biting his bottom lip. He didn't cry. That long silence while he digested the news was probably more painful to watch, though. There was something absolutely heartbreaking about the way his eyes cycled through the full spectrum of grief while his face remained completely still. He leant against me, laying his head on my shoulder. "You didn't get Kai?" he asked after a few minutes.

"No. He said he'd be back, though. He's not done."

"Wait, you know him? You _know_ the guy who just tried to kill us?" Jelena interrupted, tuning back into our conversation.

I frowned, remembering that I had decided not to fill her in about Kai's identity. In the frantic scramble afterwards she had probably missed me referring to Kai by name. "...Yeah." I said carefully, wrapping my arm around Brooklyn's shoulders and holding him more securely against my side. I could feel him shivering. "He was a beyblader."

"_As well_?" Jelena looked between Brooklyn and me disbelievingly. "Jesus, you guys get around don't you?"

"What was his name?" The reporter asked, a notebook out as she wrote down the details.

My eyes narrowed. "What's _your _name? I didn't catch it in the interview."

"Sonja Novikova." She said, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"Well then, Novikova, do you mind if you butt the hell out?" I said angrily. "Go find a story somewhere else."

Her eyes narrowed. "Bryan Kuznetsov, correct?" She asked, waiting for my curt nod. "And it didn't occur to you that knowing and being able to publish the name of your assailant would be useful at restricting his movements or helping to capture him? Or are you so wrapped up in yourself that you think you're the only person in the world who can stop him?"

"You're only here to feed your self interest," I accused.

"Isn't everybody? At least my self interest could be useful to you." She scowled. "His first name is Kai, correct? What's his last name?" She sent me a glare that could have stripped paint if I had paint on me, that is.

"Hiwatari," I spat.

She paused before writing the name down, "Not-"

"—Yes, _that_ Hiwatari. Try publishing now, bitch." I said, a hint of smugness in my voice. It had been a few years since the height of their power but Hiwatari was still a name to be feared in Russia. After Kai had disappeared and abdicated his title as heir apparent, Voltaire had continued amassing power and holding it in his iron fists. He was growing older now but it was still professional (and sometimes literal) suicide to attack the Hiwatari name.

I knew that, in reality, she was just trying to do her job and that having a friend in the press was never a bad thing. But... I had other things to deal with. I looked down at Brooklyn and gave him an encouraging squeeze. "Do you think we can get off this rooftop? I don't think he's coming back."

Brooklyn nodded slowly, each movement separate rather than one fluid motion. "Yeah." He said eventually." I want to get Ken off the street. He doesn't deserve that."

I thought of that poor nameless boy lying in the snow in a pathetic heap. I thought of his blood slowly seeping through the ground and reaching my shoes. I thought of my old playmate who I beat because I didn't want to die like that boy. I thought of Ian who couldn't hold on despite Tala's efforts.

No one deserved to die like that.

We stood together, arms supporting each other. The higher altitude made me feel woozy. Brooklyn looked at me with concern, "Bryan?" He asked, his hand moving to cup the back of my head gently. I hissed at the contact, it stung.

"Bryan, you're bleeding." Brooklyn's voice sounded distant.

I swore quietly as I felt my legs give out and I hit the ground. I was still conscious but my world had turned into bright lights and an uncomfortable pressure behind my eyes. "Kai," I said quietly as my vision came back slowly, revealing three people looking at me with concern, Brooklyn crouched beside me, "he hit me over the head before he escaped. Standing up probably wasn't a good idea."

"What about before?" Sonja said with a raised eyebrow, scepticism lacing her voice, "you got up here just fine."

Obviously she hadn't quite taken kindly to the whole 'bitch' comment. "Adrenaline," I said curtly. "Give me a minute. I'll be down there as soon as I can work out how to walk." I smiled and shooed Brooklyn away. "Go to him." I said quietly.

"You'll be down soon?" He asked, half-standing already.

"I'll make sure of it," Jelena said confidently, digging into her bag and pulling out a bandage and some antiseptic.

"First aid kit?" Brooklyn asked, standing completely and looking at Jelena questioningly.

"Wouldn't be much of a strategist if I didn't plan for _someone_ getting hurt, would I?" Jelena asked with a grin, flapping her hands at Brooklyn. "You go." She paused and looked over at Sonja. "You too—there's no more story here. Get Yamaguchi's details from Brooklyn. I'll call you later and we'll trade information."

"Deal. " Sonja gave me a sharp nod before turning to leave, talking soothingly to Brooklyn as they left.

"Friend?"

Jelena shrugged, moving behind me. "Head forward." She commanded, I did as she told me, trying not to wince when she started inspecting the wound. "She's always around after you and Sven get into any messes with our clients. We've got a working relationship. He got you good."

I hissed when she started applying disinfectant to the wound. "You don't think I know that?"

"Just saying."

"So what exactly is a 'working relationship'." I asked, trying to think about anything apart from the burning that was the back of my head. I simply hadn't felt it before it had made me collapse (fainting isn't a manly word. I don't faint.). Now it was all I could feel.

"We trade information and she keeps you two out of the press. No one wants bodyguards who are as good at causing trouble as you are. Don't tell Sven that, though."

"Why?" I asked, almost sighing with relief as I felt a soft pad being pressed against the back of my head and Jelena begin to tightly wind the bandage around my head.

"Can you imagine him if he found out I've been actively preventing him from getting his fifteen minutes of fame?"

"Good point," I said ruefully. Sven wasn't exactly the most humble person in the world. "He's going to be pissed he missed this."

"Done." She finished tying off the bandage and sat back on her heels, admiring her work. "Bet that Sven wouldn't have let Kai get away," she teased gently, standing and offering a hand to help me do the same.

I took it and stood slowly, making sure that the world was most definitely stable before letting go of her hand. "To be fair, I didn't exactly _let_ him get away." I said, gesturing to my now bandaged head.

"Of course not, it's not like you've got a history or anything that might make you want to help him escape... oh wait."

I turned to pin Jelena with a look. It may have had more impact if I wasn't sporting a bandage-helmet but it did stop her in her tracks. "Do you really think that?"

She bit her lips and looked away, starting to walk again. "I don't know. You haven't been... particularly professional about this whole thing so I don't know how you're thinking and making your decisions now."

"I didn't let him go."

She nodded once. "Okay. If you say so."

"Jelena—" She turned to look at me, "I'm sorry for involving myself personally in all of this. It would be easier if Brooklyn was just another client."

She nodded curtly. "It would be."

I could hear sirens getting close. At least the next few hours would be taken up with dealing with official types. It meant I didn't have to try and figure out what Jelena meant by that or why my apology had only seemed to make her angrier.

All I wanted to do was find Brooklyn and hide in a room with only one door somewhere. That way I could shoot anyone who dared to enter our space again.

Why don't we live in a perfect world like that?

* * *

Please tell me what you think. Reviews are awesome and make me quit procrastinating.


	13. The Perfect Facade

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Just An Inkling

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I am so tired. Assignments suck with their all-coming-at-once-dom. Blerg. I'm posting this before I got to bed so I don't quite have the mental abilities to reply to my reviewers individually :( Sorry. Suffice to say **THANK YOU** for reviewing. **THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU**

Also big thanks to my beta for calling me out when I stepped off the edge of nonsensical at the end of this chapter and forcing me to rewrite the damn thing. It's now much -much- better.

This chapter also marks the end of an epic month. Way back in November I set out with the vague idea that I wanted to write a BryBrook; because they'd been stewing in my mind as an underrated crack!pairing. 30 days; 50000 words; some colourful swearing; hilariously strapped arms (Typing doesn't agree with me, it'd seem XD The only thing that didn't give out was my right elbow. I'm waiting for it); one poor, abused CD on repeat; and a lot of whinging about how Bryan wasn't being friendly to me because he was a cold-hearted bastard of hate and we got OCs, a coherant(ish) plotline with maybe even some vague subplots, overarching themes and ideas (Which, considering that they simply just appeared I'll beg no one to analyse for fear that they might see twisted bit of my soul) and ultimate bragging rights. I WON NaNoWriMo.

Don't worry, the story isn't anywhere near finished. Just that up to this chapter was all written for NaNo and I'm proud and tired and needed to boast.

Much love, and enjoy.

* * *

"Did he say anything?"

"Who?" I asked, my arm around Brooklyn's shoulders as we sat in the uncomfortable chairs that all hospitals seemed to have. We'd caught a ride on the ambulance to the hospital and were now waiting for the staff to tell us what they wanted to do with Yamaguchi's body. Brooklyn had already been forced to be the bearer of bad news to the family. Their reaction had left him with a haunted look in his eyes, one that didn't look set to fade any time soon.

"Kai. When you were in that building. Did he say anything?"

"_You're just like me."_

Different voices. Same belief.

"...No," I said eventually, "I don't think he cares about my opinions anymore. He's realised that I'm not going to let him do what he wants so I'm not worth talking to anymore," I lied, squeezing his shoulders. "If he had said anything it wouldn't matter, right?" I asked, trying to catch his eye. "You know it wouldn't matter?"

He shrugged and refused to meet my eyes, "...sure." He said eventually, sounding completely unconvinced. "Knowing that Kai's doing this because of me is enough."

"Brooklyn..." I tried to think of something, anything to say. "You couldn't have known."

"Couldn't have known that finding someone's weaknesses and exploiting them until they had nowhere to turn but on themselves would be a bad thing?" He asked with a hint of dry humour in his voice. "I can see how that's a leap. Stop trying to comfort me, Bryan." He said quietly. "Please."

"Just trying to help." I said more to myself than anyone.

Brooklyn sighed and shrugged my arm off, standing and putting his hands in his pockets. "You're not," he said, a coolness in his voice. "Just leave."

I hesitated. If I left it would only give Brooklyn a chance to fold in on himself, wallowing in his own private pain. If I didn't leave he would probably do more damage, both to himself and to me. Life is full of difficult choices.

I stood, sighing quietly. "I'm going to go up to Sven's room. You remember which one that is?" He nodded. "I'll come back in an hour or so but if you're done sooner just come up and find me." I leant in to kiss him gently on the lips but was offered a smooth cheek instead; I pecked it before giving his shoulder a soft squeeze and leaving.

There was something happening behind those eyes that fascinated me. Something I couldn't possibly hope to understand. Some of that gentleness and warmth I loved had died and had been replaced with something darker. A hole had been left and had in turn been filled by the violence that lived within him.

But I didn't know that then. I only knew something had changed

-o-

"Look! It wibbles!" Sven grinned manically as he shook his plate. Evidently, dinner had just been served and Sven was trying to impress Jelena with the sheer wibblability of the jelly.

"That's nice, Sven."

She wasn't as impressed as she should have been. Jelena sent me a desperate look, asking me to save her. I smirked. It was nice being needed by somebody. "Sven, what are you doing?" I asked drily.

The green-haired man looked up with a bright smile. "Impressing Jelena with my sharp observations and my hilarious food. You?" He frowned when he saw my bandaged head; I'd been fighting off medical staff who wanted to unbandage it to check the wound since I'd set foot in the hospital. "Ouch," he said sympathetically.

"Ouch," I said solemnly, gesturing to his arm. "Jelena said something to me earlier about you having trouble feeling your fingers?"

He held up his cast, flexing his fingers experimentally. "They tingle a little." He shrugged. "The doctors say that it should be fine—maybe that when the psycho," He paused, frowning for a second, "—Kai? — broke it, he might have messed with a few nerves. They say that it should heal in a few weeks."

"And if it doesn't?" I asked. "It's your right hand. How are you going to function?"

"Become left-handed?" He said with a self-depreciating smirk. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Why aren't you with Brooklyn? Didn't his friend bite it?"

"Yamaguchi was murdered by Kai, yes," I said with a look. I sighed and moved to sit in one of the visitor's chairs. "Brooklyn... needed to be alone."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I told him I'd take him back to his hotel in an hour or so." I shrugged. "He needs time. I get that. I've been there."

"Do you know what he plans to do now?" Jelena asked. "It's not like he can just keep going like nothing happened. Is he planning to go back to Japan?"

I'd been trying not to think about that. Even if this hadn't happened I knew Brooklyn would eventually have to go back home. And I didn't know what I was going to do about that. On one hand, everything in me wanted to go with him, to be with the person who made me feel alive and not just like I was existing. On the other hand I had a life in Russia and I had only really known Brooklyn for a little over a week. It was long enough for my heart but my head was still extremely hesitant. I had been hoping to put off thinking about my future with him until after he'd finished his Russian commitments.

But it looked like fate was going to be a bitch.

"I don't know. He hasn't said anything. I'd assume he's going back with Yamaguchi for the funeral but..."

"Ask him tonight," Jelena, ever practical, suggested. "It's no use avoiding the subject. It's something you need to talk about. Especially now."

Sven was silent for a few seconds, obviously thinking about something. He nodded, coming to a decision before pushing the tray with the jelly on it towards me. He smirked as it wibbled at the movement. "You sound like you need this more than me."

-o-

I stared at the doors of the elevator, wondering if I could burn a hole in it with just my thoughts. If all it took was some Class A stinkeye then I thought I could almost do it. The doors hadn't done me any wrong, mind you, I just needed to vent before I confronted Brooklyn.

He'd left the hospital. The nursing staff had told me that he'd left almost as soon as I'd gone up to Sven's room. He hadn't said anything to them. Just waited until he couldn't hear my footsteps anymore and turned to leave.

Bastard.

So now I was in the elevator going up to his room with small amounts of murder on my mind. Forget that he very obviously wanted nothing to do with me for the moment. I was ignoring the niggling pain that hurt a bit more than I was giving it credit for. That was a personal pain that I could get over.

Brooklyn had left the hospital by himself, without any form of protection, after Kai had proven that he was prepared to kill for his goals.

He was being dangerously stupid.

The elevator _dinged_ as I reached the floor of Brooklyn's room. I stepped out and knocked on his door, concentrating hard on how I _wasn't_ going to kill him. He was allowed to grieve but not in a way that made him likely to be the next victim. Kai had said that he wouldn't go after Brooklyn directly but I trusted Kai, even before this, as far as I could kick him.

And even though I have a pretty mean kick that's not very far.

After what seemed like an hour but was probably just a few minutes, I heard a faint "Who is it?"

"Bryan." No need to mince words.

After another minute I heard the door unlock and Brooklyn opened it. "What are you doing here?"

"Why did you leave the hospital without me?" I asked in return.

"Trying to give you a hint."

"I was never one for subtlety."

_That_ got a smile and Brooklyn stepped back to let me in. "We're the only ones here. Everyone else has cleared out so they can sort out what Ken's death means for them." A small, private pain flashed across his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He looked at me with those eyes. It was a long look that spoke volumes of pain and suffering. I was surprised he was still functioning. I closed the distance between us and took him in my arms, holding him tightly. He buried his head in my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me, not saying anything.

After a few minutes he spoke, his voice muffled in the material of my jacket, "I'm being stupid."

I frowned, "Why would you say that?"

"Ken and I... we weren't exactly _friends_. Half the time we kind of wanted to kill each other." He let go of me and led me to the living room to sit on the couch.

"What about the other half?" I asked gently.

"The other half of the time... we were useful for each other. We both did our jobs well and that was good enough. We'd spend time together but we didn't talk about anything of importance. We weren't friends. But Kai killed him because he thought it would get to me."

"He was right," I pointed out.

Brooklyn gave me a look that said that I was missing the point. "Ken died because I was so selfish and stupid when I was with Kai. He died because I didn't understand that once you take someone apart you can't put them back together like a toy."

"He died because Kai's got some funny delusions about you." I said gently. I took his hands in mine. I'd never noticed before how smooth and soft they were in my calloused hands. "You might have done wrong by Kai but he's still responsible for his own actions, you know. Just like the rest of us. There's always a choice." I ducked my head so my eyes were level with his, making sure that I had his full attention. "Yamaguchi died because of Kai, and Kai will answer for that."

Something darkened in Brooklyn's eyes and he spoke with that voice that hinted at the violence and cruelty within "Yes he will."

I chose not to say anything. On one hand that thrill of violence was what had attracted me to Brooklyn in the first place. That darkness that I had recognised and that he had recognised in me was the reason we were... whatever we were. But Brooklyn's darkness went deeper than mine. And it frightened me.

"Will you go back to Japan for Yamaguchi's funeral?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Brooklyn nodded. "Yeah. When I spoke to his family they said it would only be a small thing. So it depends on when they release the body. The hospital staff said we were waiting on the police for that."

"With a Hiwatari as the culprit my guess is the case is going to be buried pretty damn quickly."

Brooklyn sighed, "Yeah. They won't touch him. I've still got to first figure out what my schedule was before... well, before. Then I have to tell everyone what's going on." He smiled a smile with no happiness in it, "I never actually paid attention to how much work Ken did."

"We'll sort that out tomorrow. Tonight—" I kissed the side of his head, "—tonight you're going to go to sleep and not think about this anymore. Deal?"

"No deal." He gave me an apologetic smile. "I won't be able to sleep. Bad habit when I'm stressed."

"Which in turn makes you more stressed, you know that, right?" I asked, a smile on my face.

"Eventually it turns me into a bit of a stress monkey. Ken always clears—" He paused, all amusement disappearing, "_cleared_ the place out whenever I got like that. He always said that it was times like that he seriously considered quitting." Brooklyn shrugged, "Maybe he should have? Then he would still be alive"

"Then Kai would just have shot some other poor bastard."

"Shut up, Bryan."

I looked up sharply at Brooklyn's words. They were different. _He_ was different. His eyes had turned cold and cruel.

"It doesn't matter to you, does it?" Brooklyn watched me with calculating eyes. I'd seen that expression before. It was the same expression he'd had when he took that bitch reporter apart. It was the same expression he'd had when he'd ingratiated himself with Sonja. I never thought I'd see it aimed at me.

"What doesn't matter?" I asked carefully, instantly on my guard. I wasn't sure what Brooklyn was trying to get at but I was pretty sure that it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Ken's death. You were the one who found him and yet you simply don't care do you?" Brooklyn's eyes searched mine. "How can you do that?"

I shrugged. "People die." I was still wary but we'd strayed into familiar territory. Sven and I had had this conversation back when I'd first begun working with him. We'd been dealing with a professional hitman and the only way to stop him from completing his mission was to take him out. Sven couldn't sleep for weeks after that. As far as I was concerned, it was just another body.

"Not in my world."

"What happens in your world then?" I asked curiously. "Do they just keep on living forever until they're old and can't think for themselves anymore? There are some things that are worse than death."

"There is if you don't care about death."

"What do you want me to say, Brooklyn?" I asked, a hint of anger in my voice. I could feel frustration beginning to rise in me. I didn't know where this conversation was going and it was making me uncomfortable. I'd seen the look in Brooklyn's eye that said I had to watch out for myself but he hadn't made any real move."Do you want me to tell you that Yamaguchi's death was huge and rocked me to my core? Because I can't do that. He died. It's what people do."

"But you let him." Brooklyn said quietly. "You thought I didn't see but I saw you. You were just standing there. You let him die." His voice didn't change inflection; He was simply stating fact.

I felt a cold certainty settle on my shoulders. This was what we'd been getting at. This was the reason behind the calculating look, this was the reason any hint of my Brooklyn had disappeared from the eyes of the man sitting across from me. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Seriously, that's what you think?"

"I saw you. He was on the ground and you didn't even try to help him"

"What would that have done? His wounds were too severe. If I'd tried to help him he might have lived a few more minutes in the kind of pain you couldn't even imagine."

"And you could?"

"Yes!" I snarled. "And I could. I let him die because it was kinder to let him die that way than to force him to feel that kind of pain." I felt the violence within me beginning to fight against the tight controls I normally held it under. Already it had strengthened because of Brooklyn's presence and the answering violence I could see every time I looked at him. But now it was beginning to escape, coursing through my body and leaving strength and fire in its wake. It'd been a long time since I'd lost control. I'd forgotten how good it felt.

"You don't feel anything, do you?" Brooklyn asked, "You don't care and you don't feel anything." He made to stand up but was stopped by my hand darting out to hold on to his arm. "Let go of me," he said, his voice surprisingly calm.

"Not until you tell me what you mean by that." I said heatedly. "Just because I'm not in tears because of Yamaguchi's death doesn't mean I don't feel anything. How can you say that?"

Though I wasn't aware of it then, I've replayed this conversation in my head many times since that day and I'm sure that Brooklyn knew exactly what he was doing. Just like he had with everyone who'd ever gotten in his way, just like he had with Kai, Brooklyn was busy pulling me apart with see how I worked.

He jerked his arm, trying to get free of my grip. "Let go of me!" he said again, "You're hurting me!"

"Answer me! What did you mean by that?"

"What do you think I meant, Bryan?" He snarled. "I didn't stutter. You don't feel anything, do you? Not about people dying, not about Yamaguchi and definitely not about me."

I saw red. "What?" I asked standing, using my grip on Brooklyn's arm and my size to effectively pin him against the wall next to the couch. "What did you say?" I asked again, my voice dropping to a whisper. "How could you say that?" I asked, "How can you say that!" I shook him, ignoring that painful-sounding thud as his shoulders hit the wall behind him.

His eyes rose to meet mine and I caught my breath. There was nothing of my Brooklyn in them. Only violence. Violence and victory. The small smirk on his face confirmed it. I'd played into his hands.

My grip on his arm slackened as I felt the violence that had overtaken me flee in the wake of that look. He shrugged his arm to rid himself completely of my hold. "Why shouldn't I say it?" He asked, "You don't care about anything else do you? Why should you care about me?"

I growled in frustration. "For fuck's sake! You don't get it, do you?" I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him back against the wall again. "People die and there's nothing we can do about it. But because Yamaguchi died you're safe! I'd trade that without blinking. Hell, he could die a thousand times over and I wouldn't care. You're safe and that's all that matters to me!"

Something changed in his eyes changed, the violence and cruelty was still there but it was overshadowed with something else. His hand shot out and grabbed the front of my shirt, jerking me forward as he leaned up to capture my lips in a rough, passionate kiss.

It was the same as our first kiss. The same passion, the same intensity. I tried to pull away but was prevented by the surprisingly strong grip he had on the back of my neck. And just like in our first kiss, all resistance was overtaken the call of his violence and the answering of mine.

I returned his kiss with the same intensity, pressing myself against him so hard that I was surprised the wall didn't retain a Brooklyn-sized dent in it afterwards. Somehow Brooklyn still managed to get his hands between our bodies to begin unbuttoning my shirt. Even as he fiddled with each button, his lips never left mine.

I felt him smile against my lips as he finished with the last button and roughly pulled my shirt off. I felt my overheated skin tingle as the cool night air met it and Brooklyn's hands explored their new territory.

I didn't care anymore. I didn't care that he'd tried to take me apart. I didn't care that he'd partially succeeded. What I did care about was the way he made me feel, the way he roughly pushed me off him and guided me to the couch and the way everything he did made me need him more.

He pinned me to the couch by straddling my hips and holding down my shoulders with his hands. Instead of resuming kissing me beyond senseless (Brooklyn's kisses were so intense that I'd jump the gap from being senseless right back to being senseful several times over) he simply sat for a few seconds, looking at me.

With a jolt I realised that the expression on his face mirrored my own. That same mix of lust, violence and need was in both of our expressions. As much as I needed Brooklyn to understand me, he needed me to understand him.

And I did. It frightened me more than anything has ever frightened me but I looked into Brooklyn's eyes and I knew him as well as I knew myself.

"_You're just like me_"

The moment was broken as a smile crossed Brooklyn's lips. He leant down and nipped the lobe of my ear gently, his warm breath making me shiver with anticipation.

"Prove it."

* * *

Please tell me what you think :)


	14. Living Free

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So Sorry for the late update. A bunch of assignments sprang up to exact unholy revenge on my poor, procrastinating self.

Happy easter everyone! I wish you all much chocolate :)

* * *

Consciousness hit me with blinding clarity and not a small amount of pain. I cautiously opened my eyes to find myself ungracefully sprawled face down over Brooklyn's ridiculously large bed, a pillow crumpled underneath my head and propping my neck up in an uncomfortable position. I moved my head gingerly, wincing as the movement caused a painful twinge whenever I turned my head to the left.

A soft snore made me aware of a weight across my shoulders and back. I turned my head cautiously to the right, mindful of any other twinges caused by my awkward sleeping position. Brooklyn's face was buried in my shoulder with an arm flung over me. I raised my eyebrows as I noted that he was actually sleeping _sideways_ on the bed and had also somehow managed to steal all of the blankets. Not that they were doing him much good twisted around his legs.

Brooklyn's eyes fluttered open, my small movements having woken him. "'Morning," he said sleepily, burying his head in my shoulder and attempting to block out the persistent light that snuck under the curtain. "Do we have to wake up?"

I nodded slowly, "Yeah. We've got stuff to do."

"Non-sleep-related stuff?"

"Yeah."

"Can't be that important." Brooklyn murmured, his eyes sliding shut again.

"I'm moving in five seconds. Be prepared," I said firmly.

I got an incoherent mumble as my reply. I smirked and began to count down slowly, "Five... Four..."

Brooklyn slowly dragged himself forward until his torso covered my back completely. "I'd like to see you move now," He said, a smile in his voice.

"Three, Two, One," I said quickly, pushing myself up off the bed and displacing Brooklyn easily. He fell on to the bed, laughing that laugh that only the night before I didn't know I would ever hear again.

His eyes caught mine and his laughter stopped, instantly replaced with a more serious expression.

"Brooklyn…" I began, trying to work out how I was going to put into words everything that had happened the night before and how it had affected me.

He sat up and leant forward to run a hand down my cheek before placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "Can we not?" He asked quietly. "We're here now."

I looked at him carefully for a few seconds before nodding. "Okay."

And, really, I thought that was all the conversation we needed. I looked at him and I knew exactly what he was thinking. Namely, that some things were best left unspoken.

My Brooklyn had returned and whatever darkness he'd shown last night was once again safely hidden where it couldn't hurt anyone. I didn't want to think about the way he'd sized me up before finding where to begin pulling. I didn't want to thinking about the way he'd manipulated me into giving him exactly what he wanted.

So I didn't.

If I fell into the trap of dwelling on things I'd never move forward. I'd still be with That Man or, more likely, I'd have died along with my team on that Godforsaken wasteland. So with the ease of practice, I pushed aside those feelings.

I pushed aside the fear of Brooklyn's darker, violent side and, more firmly, my reaction to it. I didn't want to think about the way Brooklyn's violence, even when it was aimed at me, made me respond. I've likened his violence to singing before and that's the only way I know to describe it. Brooklyn's violence by itself was frightening; a song that promised to hurt any who dared to listen to it. But when combined with mine we produced a discordant harmony. It was still frightening as all hell and shouldn't have worked but somewhere within out two competing melodies there was something that was beyond description.

And if the price for being a part of that was dealing with whatever had taken over Brooklyn last night, I thought I could deal with it.

"Come on," I said, gently kissing him on his forehead. "We've got things to do. On the plus side? Most of it's just calling people and sorting out your schedule. We don't have to leave the hotel."

"This is probably good, if only because I would be having serious issues if you tried to put on too many clothes."

I stood up and stretched. If I was the honest kind I would admit I did it as much for Brooklyn's benefit as for my own. I smirked and held out my hand, "Can I impose the same conditions on you?" I asked.

He blushed and took my hand, allowing me to haul him out of bed. "It depends."

"On?" I asked curiously, unwilling to let go of Brooklyn's hand.

"If you cook me breakfast."

-o-

I had given Brooklyn the unenviable task of going through Yamaguchi's diary to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be doing. Meanwhile, I busied myself making the one breakfast dish I knew I couldn't screw up: scrambled eggs.

My phone began to buzz loudly against the counter I'd place it on the night before. I picked it up and pressed it to my ear. "Hello?" I asked as I returned to the stovetop and continued cooking.

"_Where are you?"_ Jelena sounded annoyed.

"Brooklyn's, you?" I asked, frowning. "We're going through his schedule and pretty much cancelling everything." At a sound of indignation from the next room I amended, "Well, at least Brooklyn is. I'm providing moral support and food."

"_You can cook?_" Jelena sounded genuinely surprised. _"I thought you lived on instant meals or similar."_

"I don't cook much," I said, carefully avoiding the issue of my diet. "What do you want, anyway?"

"_I'm not allowed to just call?" _She asked, the hint of a pout in her voice, _"That's mean, Grumpy Bear."_

"When are you going to run out of stupid pet names for me?" I asked, smiling as I spooned the eggy mess out of the saucepan and into two bowls. It didn't look like much but it would taste delicious. I put artery-clogging amounts of salt into my bowl and scooped up the salt and pepper shakers as I brought Brooklyn his breakfast.

"_When you stop being stupid, Stupid Head_." Jelena said briskly. "_I'm coming over_."

She hung up before I had the chance to protest or ask why. She hadn't said anything while I was on the phone with her so I assumed it wasn't anything urgent.

I gave Brooklyn the bowl of scrambled eggs and passed him the salt and pepper. "Breakfast. Cooked especially for you." I said with a small bow.

"Where's yours?" He asked as he accepted the bowl.

I pointed back to the kitchen. "Not enough hands. I'll be back in a second." I turned and went back to the kitchen, returning quickly with my own steaming bowl of eggs. I paused at the doorway, watching Brooklyn.

He was glorious. He'd pulled on a pair of loose grey pants that were far too low-slung to be decent and still had bed hair that stuck up at strange angles. The phone and Yamaguchi's diary was sitting on the table next to him and I could see the lines of tension across his face While I'd been cooking he'd already made a few phone calls. Dealing with practicalities when you were still coping with your own personal loss wasn't pleasant. But it had to be done. Still none of Brooklyn's previously ever-present groupies had shown their faces. It was strange and lonely in the apartment without the ever present buzz of voices.

But it meant I was treated to sights like the one I was now, where Brooklyn had scooped up some egg on to his fork and was carefully inspecting it, his eyes narrowed in concentration as the egg sat harmlessly, goopily but harmlessly, on the end of his fork.

"It's not going to hurt you, you know." I said with a smile as I looked down at him.

Brooklyn looked at me with a grin, moving his legs so I could sit and then stretching them out again over my lap. "How can I be so sure?"

I shrugged as I began to eat my own eggs. "I like having you around?"

Brooklyn nodded once, apparently satisfied with my answer before placing the food in his mouth and closing his eyes, an expression of bliss on his face. "This is fantastic!"

I small thrill of triumph ran through my body. I couldn't cook very well (Jelena had been correct about my dietary choices. I didn't dare bring any meals that required preparation into my house. It didn't seem like a safe thing. It was healthier simply to eat out.) But the few meals I did know how to cook I cooked well.

We finished our meal and I reached over to take Yamaguchi's diary, scanning through it and blanching at the amount of cramped Japanese the man managed to fit on to one page. Unlike Jelena's chicken scrawl it was still readable but it was impressive. "Wait... this is for one day? I mean, you're busy but you're never that busy."

"The entries that have been written over a few times to make them bold are the things I'm doing. Everything else seems to be notes and reminders. Every now and again he writes down something he has to do that doesn't involve me- that's the different coloured pen you can see there."

I whistled, impressed. "So what does he write notes about?" I asked, squinting at the words. I was fluent in spoken Japanese but I still had trouble reading the language. To make matters more complicated Yamaguchi seemed to be using a Kanji-heavy shorthand in order to fit more words on the page.

Brooklyn shrugged. "Anything, everything. Who to speak to and butter up. Who to call. Things he needs to tell me before we walk into a shoot." A small smile ghosted across his face. "I found one entry reminding him to tell you that your hairstlye is stupid and that only sissy men have hair that colour."

"He's probably lucky he didn't have the chance to say that one to my face." I regretted that the moment it came out of my mouth.

Brooklyn's face fell as he remembered exactly why he was struggling his way through Yamaguchi's diary. "...Yeah."

I held out my hand with what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "Come on. We need to get dressed. Jelena called before I came in here and said she was on her way."

"Does that mean clothes?" Brooklyn asked, taking my hand and standing.

I looked down at myself, noting the way my own pants weren't exactly going to win me any prizes for modesty. "Only if we don't want to scar Jelena."

Brooklyn raised his eyebrows, looking me up and down. "I don't know about that. I mean, there's a reason I make my living by letting people take pictures of me and you're not exactly terrible looking either..." He smirked and wrapped an arm around my waist.

"Professional opinion? Or an attempt to get in my pants again?" I asked wryly, catching his lips in a quick kiss.

"Probably a bit of both," Brooklyn admitted, pulling me down for a more substantial kiss.

A knock on the door made us pull apart, me to turn and glare at the door and Brooklyn to run a hand through his hair as he blushed. "Jelena?" He asked.

"Or someone else schooled in the art of cock-blocking."

"But Sven's still in hospital."

"Definitely Jelena then." I conceded, taking a step towards the door, "Go get dressed in that magically fast way you have. I'll... try not to kill her."

Brooklyn smirked as he disappeared into the bedroom. "Much luck." The door closed firmly.

I took a deep breath before opening the door, giving the girl behind it my best death glare (I did learn from Kai and Tala, after all). "_Why_ are you here?"

"Am I interrupting your special time?" She asked, stepping past me, not before raising a single eyebrow at my state of undress. "Because that would be _awesome_."

"I hate you," I said without much conviction behind my words. Sometimes it was best just to accept that things went Jelena's way.

"Feeling's mutual," she said cheerfully, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Is it just you and Brooklyn here then?"

"Yeah. Everyone else found an elsewhere to be."

"Smart people. Wish I could find an elsewhere," she said with a small smile. "But beggars can't be choosers, right?"

"Why are you here? You could just as easily be in an elsewhere right now."

"And let you force Brooklyn to go through Yamaguchi's belongings the day after his murder?" Jelena asked, a surprised look on her face. "Not even I'm that inhumane."

I frowned. I wasn't being inhumane it was just... these things needed to be done. Yes, Brooklyn was mourning but even he understood that everything couldn't just stop. We were lucky that the things we had to do were mostly self-imposed. Once the police had heard the name 'Hiwatari' mentioned in connection with Yamaguchi's murder they had backed right off. We hadn't even been called in to give statements.

So all we had to do was sort out Brooklyn's engagements—something no one could say was inhumane... could they?

Brooklyn walked around the corner, a sunny smile on his face and impeccably dressed. He looked comfortable and casual in a dark blue fitted sweater and loose grey pants. "Hey," he greeted Jelena with a nod of his head.

"I'm here to rescue you, Cupcake," she announced with a smirk.

"...Cupcake?" both Brooklyn and I asked, looking at Jelena.

"I was going to go with Snooklepuffs but I was hoping to avoid that reaction," she said with a shrug. "You missed the first half of that sentence, though."

"The part about the rescue?" Brooklyn asked. "Didn't miss it. Just got caught on the Pastry-name. Why am I being rescued? Who from?"

"Bryan. Because he's an idiot. Instead of spending the day moping around and doing things that really can wait, you and I are going to first go shopping and then eat something disgustingly chocolaty."

Brooklyn perked up visibly at the mention of chocolate. "How disgustingly?"

"You'll probably throw up after the first bite," Jelena promised, a serious expression on her face. "Think of it as all the joy of full-fat, full-sugar chocolate but with zero calories."

Brooklyn snickered and linked arms with Jelena. "And shopping, you said? I've actually been _dying_ to get myself some new clothes that I don't have to wear for my job."

Jelena allowed herself to be led out of the door by Brooklyn who was busy informing her of the latest fashion trends. She glanced over her shoulder at me and waved, "We'll be back in a couple of hours. Do something useful," she said it in a tone that clearly indicated she didn't really care what I did.

And so she left me, blinking as I tried to figure out first what had just happened (Brooklyn-hijacking) and how I hadn't been able to stop it (Cyclone Jelena).

I stood like that for a few minutes, trying to figure out exactly what I was supposed to do now before shrugging and going to do the dishes. Sometimes you can only give up and stop fighting for logic.

-o-

"Well fuck you too!"

I pressed the hang up button on the phone viciously. If there's one thing I regret about newer, electronic phones it's the loss of the ability to slam phones down back on to their receivers. Pushing a button just doesn't give the same kind of satisfaction.

I crossed out another name on the list of people Brooklyn had written down while I'd been cooking. I was only about halfway down the list and already I was pretty sure that I'd ruined any chance Brooklyn had had of making it big in Russia. I know I'm probably not the most conciliatory person ever, but people can be so unreasonable! You'd think that 'Brooklyn's manager was brutally murdered by a psychopath wanting to destroy him completely' would be a fairly reasonable reason for Brooklyn being unable to meet his commitments. But apparently not.

I threw the list away from myself in disgust. I didn't want to do this anymore. I was over it. This was why Brooklyn had people: to deal with this kind of thing.

But Brooklyn's people had mysteriously disappeared after Yamaguchi's death. I had heard nothing from any of them since the afternoon of Yamaguchi's death. What was even stranger was that Brooklyn hadn't said anything about it. Though he often seemed content to go along with what other's said, I had gotten the impression that Brooklyn was very much in control of his own career. He knew what he was doing and he knew exactly how he was going to achieve his goals.

And yet he'd said nothing about the disappearance of his staff. Instead, I'd caught him several times looking around himself with an expression that I can only put down to pain. I'd have put it down to Yamaguchi's death but there was something jarring about it. The look on Brooklyn's face wasn't from fresh grief but something else. Like he'd just been reminded of an old pain.

He hadn't gotten angry about their disappearance but, rather, had accepted it.

I shook my head, clearing it of those thoughts. If I wanted to know something about Brooklyn it was better just to ask rather than wildly speculate. His staff were bound to show up in the next few days. Perhaps they'd gone to ground in order to protect themselves from Kai. I could understand that. Kai had already proven that he wouldn't balk at hurting those around Brooklyn in order to prove his point. There was no reason's Brooklyn's publicist or whatever (I'd never actually had direct dealing with them. As far as I was concerned, their job was to be _there_) would be safe from Kai.

I sighed as I stood to go collect the notepad I'd thrown. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything and I still needed to get to the end of the list before Brooklyn and Jelena got back.

I jumped when the phone interrupted my thoughts with a piercing shriek. I stared at it for a few seconds, _I _was supposed to be making the calls. Why was anyone calling me? Or, more accurately, why was anyone calling Brooklyn's hotel room?

I picked up the phone and put it to my ear, "hello?"

"_Hello, this is Lilya Nobokovev from the local police station. I'm looking to speak to Brooklyn Masefield?"_

Ah. _That_ was who would be calling Brooklyn's hotel. "He's not here at the moment. I'm Bryan Kuznetsov, his bodyguard. Can I take a message?"

"_He asked us to let him know when we released Kentaro Yamaguchi's body to his family. He'll need to contact them for details about the funeral."_

"Of course, I'll let him know. What about the ongoing investigation into Yamaguchi's death?"

"_It's ongoing but we have no more need for the body."_

I nodded to myself, aware that she couldn't see me. Obviously the name 'Hiwatari' had come up one too many times during the investigation. If I was a betting man I would have risked my life's savings on the chance that an important piece of paperwork was about to be 'lost', stalling the investigation indefinitely.

"Thank you for letting us know. I'll make sure Brooklyn gets your message."

"_Not a problem. Please contact us if you've got any further details pertaining to the case_"

"Of course. Goodbye."

The sound of the dial tone hummed in my ear. I'd been counting on the police stalling with the body for at least a week. But, obviously, Kai's involvement had come up much faster than I'd expected. This meant that, when Brooklyn came back from his escape with Jelena, I had to make a decision.

When Brooklyn went to Japan for Yamaguchi's funeral I could hardly expect him to have plans to return to Russia afterwards. There was nothing for him here. Yamaguchi had told me that coming to Russia was supposed to be a break from Brooklyn's normally ridiculous schedule in Japan. Now, without a manager to help him, Brooklyn would need all the help he could get just to keep his career alive. He would have to stay in Japan where he was already popular until he could find another manager as competent as Yamaguchi.

And I... I didn't know how to leave Russia. I didn't even know if I wanted to leave my homeland. I didn't know if I wanted to leave my entire life behind so I could follow Brooklyn's career.

I'd done it once before, of course; I'd left my life behind when I'd left my team for the life I was living now. It had been one of the hardest things I'd ever done and _that_ life had caused me more pain than one person should ever have to deal with. I didn't know if I could leave the life which had saved me from that. It was the first time I'd felt like a real person and I didn't want to give that up for the unknown.

But Brooklyn wasn't completely unknown. I looked down at my hands and allowed myself to think about the things I'd been avoiding since I'd woken up that morning.

I didn't want to become like Kai.

I didn't know if I wanted Brooklyn inside my head. I didn't know if I could handle it.

But, I clenched my hands into tight balls as I realised something even more horrifying than that, now that I had met someone who understood me I didn't think I _could_ give it up.

I needed Brooklyn.

* * *

Have to admit- it amuses me beyond reason to have Bry and Brookles be all like 'Totally avoid the subject- SHOPPING!' Sorry that it turned this chapter into a bit of a filler (I was a little lost after NaNo ended) but I thought it was important to establish how much they kind of suck at communcation (Okay- I'll stop trying to fend of the 'What kind of fallout was -that- you lazy writer you' comments. Bring them on.)

On the plus side- next chapter is the chapter I began writing this story for. Stay tuned :)


	15. Never

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** -bounces in- You know what's great? Holidays, that's what.

As I mentioned last chapter, this is the chapter that inspired me to write this story in the first place. I also want to say that the story gets darker from here but then I realised that it's already fairly dark XD So lets just say that it marks a turning point into equally murky waters, yes? Yes.

It also contains my favourite Bryan-line ever. Points for guessing what it is.

Much Love.

* * *

Brooklyn and Jelena returned a few hours and a few more severed business relationships later. I glared at them as they came in carrying more shopping bags than I've seen in my entire life. At that moment, completely regardless of anything else, I hated them both. While I had been busy controlling any and all homicidal urges I'd had towards pretty much everyone in the fashion industry, they'd been busy funding the damn thing.

And then Jelena had the nerve to _smile_ at me. I gave her the most poisonous glare I could manage, making her smile even more. "Aww. Didn't you have fun cooped up in the room all by yourself?" she asked.

"I hate you," I replied simply. "Words just cannot express how much I hate you."

"And yet here you are expressing your hate," Brooklyn told me, setting his bags down with a smug smile. "How about that?"

"You're not allowed to gang up on me with her," I informed him, throwing the phone back on to its cradle and viciously ripping up the page of people I'd contacted while they were gone. I'd only finished a few minutes before and had been seething quietly on the couch when they walked in the door.

"Why not?"

"It's against all laws of decency and kindness."

"Oh?" Brooklyn smirked, "since when have I ever been kind?" He paused for a few seconds, thinking, "or decent, for that matter?"

"Since you recognised that Bryan's about to murder something fluffy and innocent if we don't stop teasing him."

Sometimes I didn't know whether I wanted to kill or kiss Jelena. Take this moment, for example; In some ways her putting an end to Brooklyn laughing at my minor breakdown was a blessing. However, in order to stop it from escalating to blood, death and destruction, she had to know when I was near that breaking point and had enjoyed teasing me until I was dangerously close to it.

Brooklyn grinned and sat down next to me, slinging a casual arm around my shoulders. "Surely it can't be that bad. Do you want to hear about our adventures?"

"Not really," I said grumpily.

Brooklyn grinned and ruffled my hair, making me grumble in annoyance. "Jelena's right, you know," he told me affably

"Jelena is evil."

"Still here, BryBry," she called from the kitchen, busily unpacking... _something_. I'm not sure why she had bought food on their shopping expedition but I fervently hoped that that food included some form of ice cream. A brain freeze would just make my day.

Brooklyn shrugged. "You may be right. She might be a little evil. That doesn't make her less right about you."

"Totally does," I said sulkily.

"Does not. You just don't want to hear the truth."

"That you've never met anyone more amazing and kindhearted than me and that you wish you could spend all day ravishing my incredible self?"

"That you tend to sulk when days don't go according to your plans. She reckons it's because you've got a gigantic stick permanently shoved up your ass. I don't think so though..."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Personal experience."

"Too much information, Brookles!" I smirked as Jelena poked her head out of the kitchen. "Besides, you can't tell me that Brytasticness over there isn't one of the most controlling people you've ever met."

Brooklyn shrugged, "Not so much."

"Then what's your theory, Genius?" she asked sarcastically, coming out of the kitchen and putting her hands on her hips before fixing Brooklyn with a look.

Brooklyn looked away for a second, a small frown on his face. "Don't call me that. I'm not a genius."

"God, I hope not. You'd be insufferable," She looked Brooklyn over, "_more_ insufferable than him, if that's possible," she finished, gesturing to me. "Then where would we be?"

"In a perfect world. Combined, we'd be able to annoy you about half as much as you annoy me. It would be amazing," I said smugly, looking over the pile of shopping bags as Jelena threw up her hands and retreated back to the kitchen. "Okay. Tell me about your day."

"Promise you'll pretend to be interested and won't sigh loudly and beg for me to stop with the whole fashion show?"

"No."

"Alright then."

I let him talk, telling me a story about a snippy shop assistant and his heroic and poetic revenge while he tried on his purchases and showed them off. I think he knew I wasn't really listening. I also think he didn't really care.

Jelena had been right; Brooklyn had needed this. He had needed to be away from anything that resembled his life and the situation he was in.

Halfway through Brooklyn's story, Jelena returned to flop down on the couch beside me, bowl of popcorn in hand. She offered it to me wordlessly and wolf whistled while Brooklyn changed, showing off his new purchases.

"So what do you think?" He asked as he reached the end of the pile of new clothes. Looking at the formidable pile, it was hard to believe that Brooklyn and Jelena had done _so much_ shopping in one morning. The last outfit he'd tried on was well tailored but completely black without any sort of embellishments. "I was thinking I'd wear it back in Japan for Ken's..." The spark of happiness in his eyes died abruptly.

"When are you going back to Japan?" Jelena asked, offering her bowl of popcorn to Brooklyn. "Have they set a date?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "His family said they'd call when the authorities released him and they'd made arrangements. I'll be flying back as soon as possible after that."

"We got a call from the police saying that they're releasing the body today," I said quietly, not really wanting to think about what 'as soon as possible' meant.

Jelena looked at me and stood with a small sigh, "Well that's that then." She grinned, ignoring the tension in the room. "I've got to go and figure out exactly how much my credit cards hate me. That, and try on that gorgeous new dress."

"Your life is hard," Brooklyn deadpanned.

"Damn right it is," Jelena shot back. "Remember, you're not allowed to leave without telling me first. What am I going to do without you? I'll have to go shopping by myself again!"

"You could always take Bryan."

Jelena paused, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. Then she stared laughing. She was still laughing as she struggled to the door, waving to both of us as she departed.

"Me going shopping isn't _that_ farfetched is it?" I asked, a little bewildered. "Is it?" I asked, looking askance at Brooklyn.

"Of course not," he soothed. "There's absolutely no reason why Jelena would choose to take someone she's met maybe twice and knows absolutely nothing about over you to go shopping with. No reason."

"Nasty."

He shrugged and sat down on the couch beside me. "Guilty," he admitted, leaning comfortably against me.

"When are you going back to Japan?" I asked tentatively. "Now that Yamaguchi's body's been released."

"As soon as I can, I guess. Without Ken I don't have any more work things to do here..." he trailed off.

I could feel all of the questions bubbling up inside of me. I wanted to know if he was coming back despite the lack of work. I wanted to know if he wanted me to go with him. I wanted to know if he even wanted whatever we had going to be something more serious.

I also wanted to avoid sounding like an insecure teenage girl. So I stayed silent, absent-mindedly playing with his hair.

"At least this makes it easy," Brooklyn said, pushing himself up to sit away from me.

I blinked. "Makes what easy?" Something had changed in that second and I wasn't sure what it was.

"This way we don't have to pretend that we were going anywhere. Now we can just move on with our lives."

I frowned, turning to look at Brooklyn. I tried to catch his eyes but couldn't; He refused to look at me. I could feel what was happening, though. I could feel it in the cold, dead tone that had begun creeping into his voice. Whatever he was saying, whatever he might have been thinking, I was losing him.

"Brooklyn?" I asked cautiously, "what are you talking about?" I needed to hear it.

"What do you think I'm talking about, Bry?" He asked, a small thread of anger in his voice. "What did you think was going to happen when I was done in Russia? We'd declare our undying love for each other? One of us would leave our lives behind to follow the other?"

"I thought we'd work it out."

Brooklyn sneered. "Things don't normally work themselves out like that and you know it. We would have had to pretend that we cared. Maybe swapped contact details with empty promises to see each other again." He nodded to himself, his eyes cold. "It's better this way. This way we can pretend it was fate rather than choice."

I stared at him, not really understand what had happened. One minute I had been talking to _my_ Brooklyn, the one that had happily tried on outfit after outfit while prattling on about his day and now there was... this. "I... was going to ask you if I could come with you..."

"Don't come." Brooklyn refused to meet my eyes. "Just... don't come with me."

I frowned. This wasn't how I'd imagined our conversation. I'd weighed up everything and decided that the feeling I got around Brooklyn, that euphoric feeling of exhilaration and fear and belonging, was worth giving up my life in Russia. I was prepared to give up the small slice of happiness (or, at least, something akin to it) that I'd found in order to follow him. He wasn't supposed to refuse. "But I—"

"You what, Bry?" Brooklyn asked, that faint thread of viciousness back in his voice. "What?"

"I—"

"What do you want me to do, Bry? Tell you that it's important to me that you be there? Tell you that I need you there? I don't."

I watched as that hardness in his eyes took away any and all parts of the man whom I had woken up with, the man for whom I was prepared to give up the small slice of existence I'd carved for myself. His lips quirked into a smirk, devoid of any real amusement. "That's it, isn't it? You want me to need you there. You want me to tell you that somehow I wouldn't be able to go on without you following me around?" He stepped closer to me, his face calm and calculating despite his harsh words. He was delivering them as some kind of judgement from on high. My Brooklyn was gone and in return there was this..._person_.

"If you don't want me protecting you, just say so," I ground out, feeling a familiar wave of violence wash over me. It had felt like this in the Abbey, a tightening of every muscle, a warm flush of fury.

Brooklyn barked out a laugh. "Protect me? _Protect_ me? From what? Obviously not from Kai. Ken could attest to tha- oh wait, no he can't! He's dead and gone. Just some useless pile of person in a morgue somewhere. Worthless."

I bared my teeth at him in a wordless snarl. These weren't Brooklyn's words. They were the words of That Man after every one of my training sessions. No matter how well I'd succeeded, no matter how much I'd improved, no matter how hurt I already was, he'd sneer at me and knock me to the ground, looking at me with those eyes that never acknowledged me as a person. Often, I'd lack the strength to get up again and would have to look up at him as he passed judgement.

"_Worthless. Absolutely Worthless_."

In my head, those weren't Brooklyn's words. They were the words of a man I'd tried to forget. They were the words I'd never forget, etched on to my soul by years of torment and abuse. They were the words of a man I'd done everything in my power to forget.

My arm moved before I knew what I was doing. My fists were clenched into tight balls as I felt the satisfying thump of flesh against flesh and felt the force of the blow ricochet along my arm. I smiled at the sound of surprise and pain from That Man as he fell away from me.

Only, it wasn't That Man's voice.

As the fog cleared and I flexed my hand, I looked down at my victim and felt my world drop out from beneath me.

Brooklyn clutched his cheek and stared up at me with wide, frightened eyes. My punch had thrown him to the ground and I could already see the swelling forming around where he was holding his face.

"Oh God. _Brooklyn_," I threw myself down beside him, "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean— I— Let me see." I reached toward him, only to be pushed away by his free hand.

"Get. Away. From. Me."

I snatched my hand away, feeling the cold of shock washing over me. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. I couldn't have hit Brooklyn. No matter what he was saying. No matter who he sounded like, I couldn't have hit him. That wasn't _me_. I wasn't that person.

Brooklyn removed his hand from his face, the skin darkening along his jawline attesting to the fact that, yes, I _was_ that person. I had hit him because why? Because I was angry? Because I couldn't control myself? Because—

There were no reasons. I'd hit him in a moment of terrible, violent, anger and I could never take back that moment.

Brooklyn slowly pushed himself to his feet, his hands shaking as he brushed off his clothes mindlessly, trying to give himself something to do while his mind worked, I guess. "I-I'm going to go to Japan." He said in a too-calm voice, his eyes distant.

"Brooklyn, I'm—" He held up his hand, silencing me.

"Don't. Just— I'll be back in a week." He turned and, taking carefully measured steps, left me. The slam of the door made me jump.

I don't know how long I stayed crouched on the ground. I don't know when I'd moved enough to curl into a tight ball and I especially don't know what I was thinking for that time.

I know that when I finally moved I could feel cold, sticky streaks running down my face. I knew intellectually that I'd been crying but... I didn't know what that felt like anymore.

All I wanted was Brooklyn, to hold him and kiss his bruised cheek and apologise until I ran out of voice. All I wanted was to tell him that I had been an idiot and that he had every right to hate me but that I hoped he didn't.

All I wanted was to tell him that I needed him. That I _loved_ him.

Instead, all I got was the empty silence of the hotel room, reminding me about what I'd done. I was _that person_. I was the person who hit his boyfriend because he couldn't control his anger.

I stood slowly, ignoring the way my knees screamed at me for staying in one position for too long. I needed to move. If I didn't I was afraid that Brooklyn would come back to find me still in the same position, a reminder of what I'd done.

I staggered through the room, ignoring the feeling of cold washing over me. I needed to be somewhere where I couldn't feel that anymore. I needed to be somewhere where I couldn't think anymore. I needed to be elsewhere. I needed to be outside.

I left the hotel without my jacket, tucking my hands deep into my pockets as I walked out of the hotel. Snow had covered most of Kai's message on the footpath but it was still there, accusing me with its bright yellow paint.

_I know the real you_

I could still feel the ache in my hand from where it had hit Brooklyn's jaw. I could still hear his cry of surprise and pain.

Mostly, I could still see his eyes in that bright shade of teal, looking up at me with shock and fear. I didn't want him to be afraid of me. I didn't want him to think about me and think of the person who'd hit him because I couldn't control my temper. He was the only person who'd ever understood me and I didn't want that to go away because I was such an _idiot._

I started when I felt a jacket drape over my shoulders. Too late, I smelled the smell of stale cigarette smoke attached to the fabric.

"Forget something?" Kai's voice was as steady as ever. It was almost like he hadn't killed someone only recently. It was almost like he hadn't been pointing a gun at me only yesterday.

I remembered my silent vow to myself. Kai had hurt Brooklyn. I had sworn to kill him the next time I saw him.

But, since then, I'd also hurt Brooklyn.

"Piss off," I managed, scowling at him. "I don't want to talk to you. Not right now. Not _ever_," I amended after a few second's thought. "I don't want to fight you either. So just go."

"No."

"Kai—" I turned to him, a snarl in my voice. Deprived of his jacket, he had crossed his bare arms in order to preserve some kind of warmth. I could see the scars snaking their way along his skin. I averted my eyes. "Kai, I can't do this right now. I can't hate you when—"

"—You're too busy hating yourself?" Kai nodded at my stare as if confirming something for himself.

"He's gone back to Japan for a week. There's nothing for you to gain here."

"No, there isn't," Kai agreed amicably, tucking his hands into his pockets, shivering slightly. "Do you mind if we find like a shop or something? It's freezing out here. I remember why I normally stay the hell away from this Godforsaken country."

"Why didn't you?"

"Why aren't you on a plane to Japan?"

I grunted and looked away from him. I didn't know what to do. On one hand I needed to get away from him. He'd tried to kill me. He was trying to kill _Brooklyn_. On the other... I didn't want to be alone with myself. Despite my feelings towards Kai and despite his single-minded approach to destroying the one person who understood me completely, I needed someone to distract me.

Kai smiled and caught my arm, steering me into the coffee shop. "I was serious about it being colder than hell out there."

"Colder than hell?"

"We're talking somewhat civilly to each other. Hell must have frozen over."

I smirked and nodded, allowing Kai to steer me to a seat and push me down into it. "Promise to stay put?" he asked, a knowing look on his face.

I shrugged, "I've got nowhere else to go."

He nodded to himself and turned toward the counter. A few minutes later he returned with two mugs of steaming hot coffee. "Are we going to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," I said very definitely. "We are not going to talk about it."

"Then what?" Kai took a sip of his coffee and made a face. "What did they put in this shit? Dirt?"

"Only the most expensive kind. Did you know that the most expensive coffee in the world is made from glorified animal turd? Like, seriously, first the animal eats the bean and then they wait for it to come out the other end before they make a drink out of it."

"And they expect people to drink that shit? _Literally_ drink that shit?" Kai smirked and took another swig of his drink. "I'm never complaining about the taste of cheap coffee again." He set the mug down on the table with a small sigh. "How's your partner?"

I blinked in surprise. "Sven?"

"If that's the one with the green hair who looks like he's constantly surprised by the world then... yeah."

"The one who you sent to hospital?"

"For his own good— yeah. How's he going?"

I shrugged. "He's alright, I guess. A few broken bones and there was a bit of a concern that you'd permanently damaged one of the nerves in his arm but it's getting better now. It was clean. If he wasn't my partner I might say that you did a good job."

A small smile flicked across Kai's face as he took another careful sip of his drink, "I was taught by the best."

I felt it then. The slow sinking feeling of my past catching up to me. This was the reason I had cut ties with my team. I didn't want to be reminded of the nightmare we had grown up in. Kai had missed the worst of it, the Hiwatari name protecting him once again, but even he hadn't escaped his childhood without a working knowledge of how best to hurt others and where to hit them so they stayed down. And here we were talking about it. _Acknowledging_ that part of our childhood like it hadn't been the cause of more pain than people have the capacity for. Like it hadn't been the reason Brooklyn had left for Japan with a bruised jaw.

_Oh God, Brooklyn_. What was I doing? I had hit him and now I was busy having coffee with the man whose sole mission in life was to destroy him. What kind of person was I?

I looked up at Kai to see a strange light in his eyes. I was reminded of the message painted on the footpath.

_I know the real you_

It had been meant for Brooklyn but somehow I felt that it held true for me as well. Kai didn't understand me, not like Brooklyn. Kai didn't have that streak of violence that was essential to his very being in the same way Brooklyn and I had it. But he knew who I was.

"Do you ever think about it?" I asked carefully.

"Of course. I came to terms with it a long time ago," he looked down at his scars with a sad smile. "Balcov—" I looked away at the mention of That Man's name "—never owned me the same way he owned you. I got fucked up for different reasons." He shrugged his shoulders, a careless gesture, "Not that that matters anymore. What about you? Do you think about it?"

"No. Never." I forced myself not to flinch away as Kai fixed me with a steady look. He had no right to judge me. I was moving on with my life. I _had _moved on from that place. I'd moved on so much that I refused to think about That Man and the constant pain and hardship that had been my life.

And yet Kai sat there, heedless of the way his life had destroyed him, and judged me for running from my past.

I took a last gulp of my coffee before standing. "I have to go. It was... interesting talking to you."

"Will you kill me next time?

"Only if you go after Brooklyn. I can't let you hurt him."

"For his sake or for yours?"

I declined to answer, instead fixing him with a hard stare. I didn't know the answer and I definitely didn't want to think about it. The less I knew about my own motives the better. "Goodbye, Kai. Thanks for the jacket."

"Bry?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever's eating you up inside, it's not your fault. It's Brooklyn. This is how it starts."

"I'm not you, Kai." I reminded him, turning and taking a few steps away from the table.

I don't think he meant me to hear his whispered "Thank God."

* * *

...Yeah.

I've actually got nothing to say here, apart from directing you to the first chapter's warnings and pointing out that I told you where this was going.

Please tell me what you think (And don't kill me.)


	16. Running from the Past

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's been more than a week since I posted. Time got away from me. On the plus side I've now gotten into a bit of a routine with writing for this so new chapters are now being written at a steady rate rather than me relying on the scary backlog NaNo created.

Which is something, I guess XD Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

* * *

I watched Kai leave with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I wasn't sure what had just happened. Yesterday we'd been fighting with Brooklyn's life at stake and today... Today we'd had coffee.

"_Balcov never owned me the same way he owned you"_

I hadn't known that Kai thought of it like that. _I _didn't. I had never been That Man's property. To say so would imply that he cared about me a great deal more than he did. I was his... experiment. I'll call it that for lack of a better word.

For my first few months at the Abbey they left me alone. I was allowed to be with and practice alongside the other boys unfortunate enough to be in that place with me. With Tala's help (he'd been there for over a year) I learned how to beyblade and how to survive.

It wasn't until a scientist, a man dressed in a pristine white coat with the coldest eyes I'd ever seen, pulled me out of our morning practice session that I began to realise That Man had bigger plans for me. I found that out when I was set in front of him, terrified to the point of speechlessness. The last time I'd seen him he'd forced me to fight for the right to continue living. Now, he simply stared at me while I tried (and failed at) not showing emotion on my face.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "They tell me you've made remarkable progress. You've advanced enough to be blading against boys twice your age."

I nodded, fuelled by nervous energy. "Y-yes Sir," I managed, mindful that any attention paid to me probably wasn't good attention. In my short time at the Abbey I had seen boys pulled out for an audience with That Man only to return looking shell-shocked and unable to function properly for weeks afterwards. I'd also known boys who had never appeared again. I didn't want to be one of those boys so I tried to mask my fear by standing a little straighter and meeting his gaze with what I hope was a look of both confidence and competence.

He smiled, "I've got a challenge for you."

I blinked, surprised. Mentally I'd been prepared for a punishment of some kind. This was... unexpected.

I waited quietly for him to elaborate on his challenge.

He took five photographs from the table set up next to his chair and held them out to me. I tentatively stepped forward and took them from him, ashamed when my hands shook. I quickly stepped back to what I hoped was a 'safe' distance and looked at the photos. They were pictures of people, other boys at the Abbey. But they weren't just any boys, That Man has given me pictures of the five boys who had shown the most promise in beyblading. I had watched them in my practice sessions with awe and just a touch of fear. The way they moved, the control and precision that they exhibited in the dish was beyond anything I knew I could achieve. I looked up at That Man questioningly.

"I want you to defeat them," he said simply. "They tell me that your skills are more than adequate to do so."

I stared at the photographs dumbly. I had only learned what a beyblade was a few months ago. Even with natural talent literally oozing out of my pores there was no way I could achieve what That Man wanted. I looked up from the photographs and caught his knowing look. He knew I had no chance.

"What if I fail?" I asked carefully, aware that I probably didn't want to know the answer.

His lips curled into a smirk, "For your sake, I hope you don't have to find out."

Of course, I found out the next day. The first boy defeated me without even breaking a sweat and I was pulled away from the arena by a guard who didn't wait for us to be away from the group who had watched the match before he began hitting me.

In retrospect, he actually went easy on me. Maybe as a consideration for my age? In any case, I escaped that encounter without any broken bones and only some nasty bruises to show for it. When he was done with me, he let Tala, who until that point had been hovering nearby, unable to help me but unwilling to leave, help me to our shared room.

"What happened?" He asked as he helped me into my bed. "What did you do?"

"I lost," I said, wincing as lying down stretched muscles that really didn't want to be stretched. "What do you think?"

"I think you were an idiot for challenging Petrovic," he said bluntly, slapping my hands away from my face where the worst of the bruising was forming. "You touch them and, God help me, I _will_ make them worse," he told me smoothly.

"Challenging him wasn't my idea, you know"

"Then who— oh," Tala's blue eyes went dull for a few seconds as he processed that information. "I didn't know he was paying attention to you."

"Neither did I."

"You know there's only one thing to do now," Tala said, slipping into a more commanding tone I'd later recognise as his 'captain's voice'. "We have to win." Even as a child, Tala easily assumed a leadership role. It really hadn't been a surprise when That Man named him as team captain, only a confirmation of what we already knew.

It took me a day of lying extremely still before I could move without too much trouble and Tala didn't waste any time. While before he had taught me the basics of beyblading, now he taught me how to win. Or, at least, he tried.

Try as I might, I could not beat Tala. His technique relied on quick calculation and lightening-fast strategy that I could not even dream of following. He tried to show me how to think every move through and how to predict my opponent's moves but... I've never been able to think like that and no amount of advice and terse encouragement was going to change that.

Eventually, I lost my temper. We had been practicing for hours and my body had gone from sore, to aching, to screaming at me to stop straining myself. And Tala, for all of his good and altruistic intentions, had become the focus of my frustration and anger.

I could feel that simmering resentment with every ache I aggravated with my movements. Every time he forced me to bend to collect my lifeless beyblade, every time he ordered me back to the launching position. I could feel the anger and the humiliation and the frustration at being set such an impossible task building in me every time he forced me to stand straight and launch my blade correctly only to have it knocked almost immediately out of the dish.

When he forced me to stand at the beydish for the last time, the rage and aggression that had been simmering for the entire day bubbled over. I brought my blade up with a snarl, feeling for the first time the warm rush of violence. That day in the snow had unlocked the door and now I opened it, allowing all of those pent up emotions to wash over me and fuel me. I launched my blade with such force that it collided with his and sent it flying back to clip one of his legs as it raced past him to lodge into the wall behind him.

Tala cried out and fell, holding his leg. Already, blood was beginning to seep through his fingers.

"Shit!" Forgetting my own injuries, I ran around the dish to crouch next to him. "Are you okay?"

I think if he wasn't too busy muttering a steady stream of swearing under his breath, I would have been the victim of some incredibly cutting sarcasm at that moment. As it was, he simply looked at me in an exasperated way.

"Let me look," I ordered. He removed his hand gingerly from his leg. It looked like I'd clipped his shin but it wasn't very deep and there wasn't any real damage. It would have stung more than anything. "We should get you to the infirmary."

"No," he said firmly, flexing his knee and ankle experimentally. "Take me to our room and go find a bandage or something."

"But—"

"No."

Helping him stand was a long and slow process, during which I was constantly surprised by the sheer variety of curses Tala knew. He told me later that he had learned most of them from the other boys in the Abbey, That Man sourced recruits from all over the world.

"Bry?"

"Yeah?"

"You did well."

-o-

The next time I faced Petrovic, he had no chance. Thanks to Tala, I had learned to use that anger and violence that That Man had instilled in me on that first horrible day. I don't know what happened to Petrovic after I defeated him, a guard pulled him away and I can't remember seeing him after that.

I made short work of the other four boys, allowing my anger to fuel and guide my technique. I was much less tactically-minded than Tala but I made up for it with aggression. Tala, having bandaged and hidden his injury, watched all of my matches with something akin to proprietary pride and only a hint of fear.

The other boys didn't hide their fear when I stepped away from the dish, still in a haze of anger, having defeated the last of my targets. I didn't give them any mind. If they wanted to fear me it was because they were too weak to be my contenders. They didn't matter.

It was with this new confidence that I stood in front of That Man again. I was no longer a frightened boy. Something had changed and I had found a new source of power that could protect me against the worst he could throw at me.

"You defeated them?" That Man asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from my own lips.

"Yes, Sir," I replied obediently. "I completed your challenge."

"So your skills with a beyblade are adequate." I bristled at his use of the word. To beat those boys I had more than just _adequate_ skills. I narrowed my eyes as he smirked at my reaction. He knew _exactly_ what his words would do to me.

"I believe so, Sir," I managed. Already the high from victory was beginning to leave my body and I was starting to feel how tired I was. My aggressive style of blading was effective but it took a lot out of me. All I wanted to do was go back to my room and sleep.

"Good," he said eventually, after having regarded me for a few minutes.

"Is there anything else you require of me?" I asked, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible. Even with my newfound confidence, I needed to escape from him. Everything about That Man made my skin crawl.

He thought about that for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No. You may leave."

I wouldn't say I _scampered_ away from him but I definitely left in a hurry, mind already on how comfortable my bed would seem after the day I'd had. I wanted to talk to Tala and tell him about That Man and how he'd insulted me.

A strong hand on my shoulder prevented me from doing any of that. I looked up into the cold eyes of the scientist who had first brought me in front of That Man.

"Come with me," he said simply, holding on to my shoulder and turning, forcing me to walk in front of him.

"Where are we going?" I asked, not fighting him as we walked. I'd seen other boys fight when scientists came for them. It never worked and I was already feeling too tired to do anything about it. It was simply easier to let him steer me through the labyrinth of the abbey.

I had the feeling that we were going down. Or, at least, the air got colder and staler as we walked further. It was hard to see any other signs about where we were; all of the hallways in the abbey were brightly lit and painted a sterile white, like a hospital.

"Where are we going?" I asked again. It felt like we'd been walking for hours but, in reality, it had been less than ten minutes. The scientist didn't answer, only guided me down another seemingly endless hallway.

When we arrived at our destination it was almost a relief. Whatever was going to happen, it meant I didn't have to walk anymore and that could only mean good things. I was so tired by that stage I would have done anything they asked.

Thankfully, they didn't ask that much. They simply put me into a room that was painted as white as the sterile corridors. In one corner there was a bed, big enough to curl up on but not to lie on, and in another there was a toilet with a tiny sink next to it. All fairly harmless.

I would grow to hate that room.

It's amazing how quickly you can lose your sense of time in a room like that. It wasn't too bad for maybe the first hour but then it began to get to me. The fluorescent lights reflected off the white walls to burn into my eyes and there was a constant, repetitive grating noise that soon became the only noise I could ever remember hearing. It became worse when they shut off the lights and the room was plunged into complete darkness. Then, for hours, all I could hear was that grating noise. It sounded a bit like a ventilation fan that was scaping the edges of its casing but I never found the source. Despite this, it quickly went past being an annoyance to rattling around in my head disrupting any thoughts and memories that might have taken me away from that room.

In one of the dark times (from what I could tell, the scientists changed the lighting at will, without any kind of schedule. The lights could stay on anything from days to only a few hours.) that I heard the door to my cell open.

I sat up in my bed and tried to orient myself in the darkness. "Hello?" I called, not really expecting an answer. Normally if the door opened it was to admit a tray of food. These, too, were provided at random times. But this was different. I could feel that someone else was in the room with me.

I was still sitting in the bed when I was given solid evidence of their presence in the form of a hard blow across my face. I cried out, more in surprise than pain, and tried to press myself against the wall, making myself as small as possible. If I was Tala I would have already come up with a plan. As it was, all I could think to do was hide from my assailant. I couldn't see him in the darkness and that made him all the more threatening.

An iron grip fell on my shoulder and dragged me off the bed, flinging me into the opposite wall. I gasped as all of the air was forced out of my body and turned, bracing myself against the wall as I regained my breath. I waved my arms in front of me, trying to find my attacker. I had this idea that if I could only find my assailant, and somehow make him real, then I would be able to fight against him. If he was real, I could stop him. It was a wild hope, to be sure, but it was the only one I could cling to in that darkness.

A sudden hit to my side sent me sprawling. I clutched my side as I felt the pain vibrate through me. I cried out as my attacker kicked me as I tried to curl in on myself. He kicked me until my world was a haze of pain and I could taste blood in my mouth. Then, just as suddenly as the attack began, it mercifully ended. Without a sound, my attacker left. I heard the door to my cell open and close and the buzz that meant the lights were about to come back on.

I blinked as the bright lights blinded me for a few seconds and then froze as I saw a dark shape in front of the closed door. It was That Man.

We stared at each other for a few seconds before he smirked and nodded, confirming something to himself. He held my gaze for a few seconds more before turning and opening the door behind him, closing it with a final click.

I rolled on to my back with a groan. Every part of me hurt more than I had the ability to register. After a few minutes of convincing myself that breathing didn't hurt more than it was worth, I slowly pulled my shirt off to inspect the damage. I could almost hear Tala's voice in my head as I examined the angry red and purple marks all over my torso_. 'It's not too bad, Bry. But why the hell didn't you block anything? Or do anything to minimise the damage? I know I've taught you better.'_

"I couldn't see him," I said through clenched teeth as I slowly forced myself to my feet, wilfully ignoring the way that the word spun at the change in altitude. I staggered over to the tiny sink, leaning most of my weight against the wall as I turned on the tap. I began to wash myself slowly, hissing as the cold water splashed on my skin. I didn't want to think about what had just happened but my mind was determined to do its own thing, regardless of what I wanted. I found myself going over the attack, trying to think of what I should have done, what I could have done to avoid my current injuries. Mostly, I went over what I would do the next time I was attacked.

I didn't have to wait long.

I think it was maybe 48 hours but, as I've said before, my perception of time was screwed beyond measure with the intermittent lights and that grating sound. It was enough time for me to recover enough from my injuries that every movement wasn't accompanied by lightning bolts of pain. It was dark again when I heard the small sound of the door opening and the soft footfall of someone entering the room. I wouldn't have woken, except that the sound interrupted the rhythm of the constant noise.

This time I was ready for my attacker.

I gathered my sheet from the bed and held each end in my hands. It was reasonable to assume that he had some form of night vision goggles. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to find me last time. The first thing I needed to do was find him in the dark. Then I had to disable those goggles.

Just because Tala had failed to teach me to strategise on the spot didn't mean that I hadn't learned some useful skills from the redhead.

I flung the sheet out, keeping hold of one end, When it hit a solid _something_ in the middle of the room I threw myself at it, a human cannonball. My would-be-attacker fell, the breath rushing out of his lungs with an 'Oof'. I didn't waste any time and reached up to push the goggles up and away from my attacker's eyes.

Unfortunately, he didn't need night vision goggles to find me. I felt an iron-like arm snake around me and tighten, making it suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Then my world turned into stars when he headbutted me. I yelled and kicked my legs and, in a lucky shot, caught him in the groin. His arm loosened immediately and I shimmied out of his grip. I scrabbled along the ground until my fingers came into contact with the cold metal of the goggles. Not bothering with the strap (I would have wasted too much time adjusting it down from the guard's adult-sized head to mine), I pressed the goggles against my eyes and quickly took stock of the situation. I could see my attacker clearly now. He was one of the guards who routinely 'protected' us and prevented any plans for escape from the abbey. I wouldn't have remembered him except one day he had taken exception to the way Tala had looked at him and I tend to remember the faces of people I hate.

He was beginning to recover but now, with his goggles gone and me not on his person, he was helpless. Or, at least, as helpless as I had been at the beginning of our fight. I felt the warmth the now familiar cloud of rage begin to take over as a savage grin lit my face. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to fall into that violence, letting it take over.

It was someone else who stamped on the guard's hand as he searched for his goggles. As he grabbed my leg and pulled, throwing me to the ground it was someone else who kicked out to hit him solidly in the face. It was someone else who scrabbled1 out of his reach and gathered up the sheet I had dropped. It was someone else who wrapped the sheet securely around my hands and it was most definitely someone else who threw the sheet over the guard's neck and twisted it, holding it tightly and firmly as he first tried to fight it, then slipped into mindless panic, then weakened until he didn't move any more.

I felt the wave subside as I came back to myself, my hands still wrapped around the sheet. I shook the sheet off quickly and stepped away from the corpse. In place of that warm, comforting anger and violence I began to feel the cold grip of fear and a sense of revulsion at what I'd done. Despite this, my voice was steady as I turned to look at the corner That Man had been skulking in. I had seen him as soon as I began using the goggles but had dismissed his presence as unimportant. I had known he wouldn't interfere.

"Make them turn the lights back on," I said quietly.

He let out a surprised chuckle. "And why should I do that?"

"We both have the goggles so we can both see each other. Having this place pitch black is redundant," I reasoned.

His head tilted as he thought for a few seconds before he made a gesture to an unseen video camera and the buzz of the lights began. "You didn't have to kill him, you know," he said reasonably. "I would have been just as happy if you'd simply disabled him."

I thought of Tala's shocked yell as that guard had hit him without any warning and of the way that I'd been forced to stand back and watch as my best and only friend was beaten for no reason other than an imagined slight. I thought of the way that guard had smirked every time Tala had come near him for the rest of that week while the bruises healed. "No, I had to kill him." I blinked as the lights came back on, waiting a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. "But you knew that."

"Of course I did. I wanted to see if you did too."

"Why? A test?" I asked, the tiredness washing over me again. I fought not to sway on my feet.

"Not for you. For me. I wanted to see if there was a reason you're my favourite."

I didn't let those words sink in. I couldn't even begin to understand what they meant to me. Instead, I looked down at the corpse of the man I'd killed by my own choice and with my own hands. "If you've got your answer, I'd like to leave now. I see no reason why I should stay here."

I felt a part of me die then. I had just killed someone and felt nothing. I felt no regret or pity. There was only a mild disgust as being in the same room as someone who was so obviously not of the living any more.

That Man inclined his head and made another signal to the cameras, making the door click open of its own accord. "We've learned all we can with this anyway." He gestured toward the door. "Go. You'll hear from me soon."

There were never words I'd wanted to hear less but the door had been opened. The door that I'd stared at for days or weeks or maybe even months had opened just like that and I was allowed to walk through it.

I stepped over the guard's corpse on my way out.

Seeing Tala after my ordeal was like... actually, even now I don't really have the correct words to describe it. It was what I needed. After however long spent in that room, unaware of the time and feeling that noise begin to overtake any rational thought it was good to see something that wasn't those sterile white walls and hear Tala's chatter as he updated me on what had happened in my absence. After the fear, anger and eventual emptiness that the guard had produced in me it was more than good to talk to someone who made me feel something other than hatred.

Among the things he excitedly told me about as he led me through the abbey, showing me new things like he owned the place and these were his most prized possessions, was that he had found a new friend.

He told me this as we walked around a corner and almost ran into a brick wall. Except that this wall wore clothes and had blonde hair.

I've always considered myself to a fairly large person. I'm tall enough to intimidate most people and I've got enough muscle and bulk to intimidate anyone stupid enough to stick around long enough to notice more than my height.

But I had nothing on this boy.

Tala smirked at my reaction, "Bry, this is the friend I was telling you about! Meet Spencer."

* * *

I love baby-Tala. He's adorable and makes me giggle.

Please tell me what you think.


	17. You Don't Own Me

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Yeah... My total bad with the update delay. I've had a buttload of assignments that took priority over editing and making this shizz readable for people other than me. I've hit a bit of a wall with this and I'm trying to work through it and failing pretty miserably.

So... On that front, I was wondering if anyone would be willing to be my sounding board? I've reached the point where I've got all these lovely plot points (that really did come out of the ether) and no idea how I'm supposed to stitch them all together without it being horribly awkward and terrible. Currently my cat is privy to all of my brainstorming sessions but the only feedback I get from her is a good mauling whenever I don't feed her in a timely way. So anyone up for listening to my crazy-ass rambles about where the story maybe-might be going and giving feedback while remaining tactfully quiet about the inherant lameness of all ideas? Y/Y? PM me if you're interested

And now that that's out of the way! Onwards with the flashback filler!

* * *

While I had been trapped in that room, Tala had been planning. Well, to be fair, Tala was always planning; it was intrinsic to his nature. If given the chance, he would plan the exact way he would assemble a sandwich. It wasn't a conscious thing; it was just how his mind worked. But this time was different: He'd come up with a strategy for how we would survive the abbey.

He explained it to me the night I was released. He didn't ask why I had disappeared or what had happened to me. Instead, we had come to an unspoken agreement that we didn't need to talk about it. It was like the time hadn't passed at all.

"I've got a plan," he said quietly, excitement leaking into his voice.

"When don't you have one?" I asked cautiously. Simply lying in my own bed was bliss. Not having to hear that noise was as close to heaven as I'd even thought I'd be.

"This one's a good one, though. I've been thinking of it for a while," Tala grinned and sat up in his bed, unable to contain himself and prompting me to reluctantly sit up to face him. Despite myself, I was interested. Tala was always planning but it didn't mean that his plans always came to fruition. Or had a very long mental shelf life. If he'd been considering this plan for a while then it was probably going to be one of his better ones.

"We've got to form a team."

I allowed myself to blink a few times, processing. "What?" I asked eventually.

"We've got to form a team," he repeated, looking at me like I was an idiot. "Don't you see? Every time Balcov sends out people to compete in the World Championships it's always as part of a team. If we make our own team and prove that we're better than everyone else he'll have no choice but to make us their World Championship team. Think about it—Balcov's paying attention to you at the moment, meaning that anything you become a part of will immediately get his notice. Not to mention that you've got some wicked skills." He paused to look at me, making sure I was following.

"Spencer's been here for a while", he continued"—much longer than I have, so he knows the inner workings of the place. He's also the biggest person I've ever seen. Besides that, he says that he's got a friend."

"A friend?" I asked, trying to keep my eyes open. It sounded like one of Tala's better plans, to be honest, but it was having a hard time competing with the promise of sleep for my attention.

"Yeah, a scrawny little kid called Ian. You might have seen him around the beydishes, rescuing any destroyed blades and trying to fix them."

I did remember him. He had always been a weird kid. He didn't talk to many people, always too concerned with the beyblades they were holding to concentrate on anything so petty as words. After I had been beaten by Petrovic, he had approached me and mumbled something about improving my blade to increase its performance. Unfortunately at the time I was too busy in my pre-bashing haze of failure to actually pay him any attention. "Where is he? I didn't see him in the yard today."

"Scientists pulled him out maybe two days ago." Tala shrugged. "I know they've noticed his aptitude so it's unlikely that they'll hurt him. He should be back out in a few days."

"And what will you do in this so-called team of ours?" I asked, surreptitiously sinking down against the wall and snuggling into my bed.

Tala scoffed, not believing that I hadn't worked it out. "Well, obviously, as the person who brought you all together and the brains of this outfit, I'll be the captain."

"Of course." I deadpanned. "And why do we want to become the World Championship team? All that means is that we become even more of a target. I'm happy with anonymity." Giving up all pretence, I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes as I spoke.

"One simple reason. As part of their primary team we are given some power. Power that one day might help us get out of here: bitbeasts."

I snorted. "They're a myth and you know it. If the scientists could build something that powerful they'd be trying to take over the world by now. We'll talk about this in the morning," I said as I rolled over to face away from Tala.

"They're not a myth and I'll prove it." Tala said haughtily. "You'll see, when we become so tough that even the scientists won't want to mess with us, they're definitely real."

-o-

I still wasn't sure about Tala's plan, but I went along with it. When Ian was released we began training together as some sort of team. Mostly that simply involved us doing the same things we'd always done but with more swearing and Tala yelling at us. It was... fun, I guess. As close to fun as I ever had in that place.

Unfortunately, my new status as a team member didn't prevent That Man from singling me out. After my time in the room, he had found an effective goad into making me do almost anything. All he had to do was threaten me with it and I had visions of too bright walls and that horrible _horrible_ grating sound. In order to avoid that place I would do anything.

I became That Man's new method of doling out punishment.

Every week (or thereabouts) I would feel a guard's hand clamp down on my shoulder and lead me to whatever room That Man was currently holding court in. Our meetings were always genial enough— he'd ask me how I was going with my training, I'd answer as succinctly as possible. One day he surprised me by telling me that he'd organised for me to do actual combat training. Until that point, any skills I had came from experience rather than any sort of formal training. I actually kind of enjoyed his attention, to be honest. It was flattering that he took such an interest in me over any of the other boys. And his attention meant I was never singled out by the guards when they wanted to let off some steam. Always, though, he would end our conversation with a photograph of one of the other boys, information about his transgressions and how I was to punish him.

The first few times I balked or tried to soften whatever punishment That Man had prescribed. I knew the kind of special hell the abbey was and I didn't want to contribute to it. If I tried to refuse, however, That Man would simply remind me that he had the power to put me back in the room and that it would be much worse for me the next time. And if I tried to soften the punishment, pulling my punches or aiming them at less painful places, I would be dragged away, bound and given whatever beating or treatment I was supposed to be giving out. I later found out that the boys I'd tried to protect had ended up receiving twice the punishment they would have received otherwise.

Eventually, I learned to switch off and feel nothing. It didn't matter that everyone apart from my teammates recoiled whenever I walked nearby. It didn't bother me when I hit boys half my size, their cries and groans of pain left me unaffected. I learned how to retreat into a warm haze of violence where it didn't matter what harm I caused. I was just doing what I was told and in the process got to express some of the anger that had been building up since that day in the snow, since the day I'd murdered the guards without thinking. I convinced myself that it didn't matter, that the boys I hurt deserved it. That Man never set me on someone without reason. I was allowed to let the violence take over when it came to them.

That was, of course, until after one of our meetings, That Man presented me with a picture of Tala.

"No," I said flatly.

"He was caught trying to convince another boy to manufacture weapons."

I tried to keep from rolling my eyes. Another of Tala's schemes. He'd decided that we needed customised launchers in order to increase the power and endurance of our blades. He'd also decided that they needed to be in the shape of guns in order for us to look more badass as a unit. I had called him an idiot for trying and ten kinds of idiot for getting caught and had thought that was it—another example of Tala's grand plans gone wrong. But this was serious.

"Those weren't weapons. They were launchers for beyblades. Something about power and efficiency or something," I explained, lamely, refusing to take the picture That Man kept holding out to me. "He didn't do anything wrong."

His eyes crinkled as he looked at me patronisingly. "Is this because that boy is your... friend?" he asked, condescension dripping from his voice. "Is that why you don't recognise how serious an offence this is? We must make an example of him lest other boys decide to follow his lead."

"My friendship or lack thereof with Ivanov is not the concern here," I reasoned. "What he was asking to be produced was a beyblade launcher, not a weapon. In fact, by asking for them he was trying to further our goals of producing the strongest possible beybladers. His choice for the shape of the launchers was ill-advised, to be sure, but he was appropriately chastened by a guard at the time. He needs no further punishment." Privately, I congratulated myself for both coming up with that argument so quickly and making it sound reasonable. Perhaps Tala's skills had been rubbing off on me after all.

"That isn't your place to decide," That Man said, a hint of anger entering his voice. "You will leave this room and you will go and make an example of Ivanov. You will ensure that everyone knows that it is unacceptable for anyone to even produce a simulacrum of a weapon within these walls," he ordered, his voice brokering no room for argument.

"No," I said firmly, ignoring the shake in my voice. I'd never directly defied him before.

That Man's eyes narrowed. "What made you believe you had a choice?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "If you refuse one more time I'll ensure that you get thrown in that hole for so long you won't even remember your name when you come out."

"I've carried out every one of these... assignments since you began giving them to me but I won't do this." I ignored the way my brain kept screaming at me to stop talking. I had barely survived the first and only time I'd ever been put in the room. And I sincerely doubted I would survive another visit. Or, at least, I doubted I would survive it intact.

But I wouldn't hurt Tala. He was the only reason I still felt _anything_ and I wouldn't destroy that friendship.

That Man sat back in his chair, contemplating me for a few seconds. I forced myself not to fidget under his gaze. After a few seconds he let out an exaggerated sigh before signalling to a guard standing unobtrusively at the edge of the room. "I've actually been thinking about Ivanov for a while now," He told me affably, "He's got a brilliant mind on him but is a little too given to flights of fancy. He's unable to stay on task. And no matter what we do he's always had an issue with strength and power. And now this—" That Man shrugged with a cruel smile. "Perhaps you're right. There's no real point in trying to beat some sense into such a worthless weakling."

He threw Tala's picture to the guard who caught it easily. "Take care of him," he ordered, his eyes never leaving me.

I felt my insides turn to ice. I had meant to save Tala, not accidently piss That Man off enough to kill my first and best friend. "No!" I said, moving to block the guard's path. "Don't kill him! I'll—I'll do it." I said, silently apologising to anyone who was listening. "Just— don't kill him."

"Camaraderie? You?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. "What's stopping me from ignoring you and destroying your... pet?"

"Tala's not my pet," I said angrily, keeping a wary eye on the guard who had stopped in front of me, awaiting further orders. "He's my captain."

"Your captain, is he? Sounds like you've got an infatuation with this _Tala_," he said. I mentally kicked myself for using Tala's first name. It was an unwritten rule that everyone was referred to by last names only. It was also an unwritten rule that anything else denoted friendship and attachment—something that was frowned upon in the abbey. I risked a glance at him and quickly looked away; His eyes were boring into me even when I wasn't looking.

"No, Sir. Just explaining why killing Ivanov would be a mistake. I'll do what you want."

"Publicly?"

"Of course." I hated myself.

"You know the consequences if you try to go easy on him," He reminded me, gesturing towards the guard.

My eyes flicked toward the man in front of me. His expression was bland, like it was of no consequence to him if he had to kill a ten-year-old boy that day. Privately, I committed his face to memory. The dark, cold eyes and white-blond hair. I would kill that guard one day I promised myself. "I understand," I said quietly as I turned to leave.

"Bryan?" I froze midstep and looked over my shoulder at the man I was beginning to hate.

"Yes, Sir?"

"After you have finished you will face your own punishment for your insubordination."

I left the room without another word. At that point I didn't care what happened to me.

I found Tala eating lunch with everyone else. On days when the weather wasn't unliveable, lunch was served outside on long picnic tables. He smiled and waved as I came into view. Mindful of the guard two steps behind me, I didn't acknowledge him.

Undeterred, Tala began bullying people beside him to move so I could sit next to him. "Bry! You'll never guess what Ian worked out for us last night!" He told me when I got within speaking range.

I put my hand on the back of his head and slammed it forward into the table. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I pulled him back viciously and threw him on to the ground.

"Hey!" I turned to see Spencer beginning to rise from the table, his face a mask of anger. The look on my face made him stop. I shook my head at him before turning back to Tala who was just beginning to pull himself up off the ground.

I hit him in the kidneys, making him cry out and fall back down, rolling away from me. It was about the moment that my legs were swept out from under me that I remembered that it was Tala who had taught me the basics of self defence long before That Man had started my lessons.

I hit the ground and rolled, using the momentum to get back on my feet and face Tala. He watched me warily, a trail of blood making its way down his face from an obviously broken nose. I looked over at the guard who had retreated to a safe distance, hand resting lightly on his gun, prepared in case my resolve weakened. I looked back to see Tala's eyes assessing the situation, taking in the guard and the way I'd positioned myself between them. It didn't lessen the betrayal and pain but I think I saw a light of understanding in his eyes.

That understanding didn't stop him from taking a swing at me. I caught his fist in time to be hit by a swift knee in the stomach, making me yell. I jabbed the side of his head with my elbow, making him stagger, and followed it with two swift hits to his chest, hearing the crack of broken ribs.

His arm reached out instinctively, trying to hold on to me for support. I batted it away and delivered a swift kick to his side, sending him sprawling.

Tala rolled on to his back and lay there, taking shallow gasps of air so as not to aggravate his broken ribs. He watched me with anger and hurt filled eyes as I stood, fighting just as hard for air as he was.

"Why?" he asked quietly, wincing as speaking made him breathe a little too deeply.

I felt more than heard the guard shift behind me, preparing himself should I answer wrongly. "You were trying to organise the manufacture of weapons," I said, pitching my voice so everyone seated at the long table could hear me.

"_Launchers_. They were _launchers,_ you idiot. You knew that," He hissed.

"Doesn't seem to matter. If it looks like a duck—"

Tala smirked despite himself, "Throw it in the water just in case it's a chicken."

"_Exactly_." I moved faster than he could react, covering the distance between us in under a second. Trying not to think about it, I raised my foot and brought it down hard on Tala's leg, hearing the shin bone crack under the blow.

I turned away, ignoring Tala's cry of pain and surprise. I looked at the guard, hoping that he was satisfied I'd done enough damage. "Take me back to him," I snapped, knowing that if I stayed there I would have to come to Tala's aid. If I continued to look away from him I'd be okay. I knew I had enough self control to keep walking.

If only I couldn't feel Tala's eyes watching me.

The guard smiled. "No need. I know exactly where you're going."

This time, they didn't bother turning on the lights.

If time had lost meaning the last time I'd been in the room, it had now stopped completely. I spent the first few minutes orienting myself. Nothing had changed. The bed was still in the same place with the same rough sheets, the toilet and inadequate sink were still in the opposite corner and, completing my version of hell, there was the grating noise. As constant and persistent as ever.

I had a lot of time to think in that room. Also a lot of time to truly cement my hatred for That Man. Tala and I didn't speak about what happened whenever one of us disappeared for a few days. But that didn't mean I didn't see what effects those days had on my friend.

Any time I was pulled away, it was always by a scientist performing one psychological test or another. They'd only once tried to drug me—something to do with increasing aggression or some such bullshit. They didn't try _that_ again.

That meant that whenever I returned I was still physically okay and, after a few hours of Tala's influence, I was normally mentally all right as well.

Tala, on the other hand, always returned from his stints away looking drained and moving like even the smallest movement caused him pain. It normally took him days to recover.

"_And no matter what we do he's always had an issue with strength and power"_

I meditated on those words, feeling my anger deepen. Was _that_ what they were experimenting on him for? To make him more physically powerful? _That _was the reason they took him away and hurt him?

I'd never asked about the needle tracks down his arms or the way he's flinch whenever a scientist rounded the corner. I was beginning to wish I had if only so I could have appealed to That Man to see sense before I'd pissed him off irreparably. Now any requests I made on behalf of Tala would be looked at with suspicion.

I hit my head against the wall angrily. What if he was taking out his anger on Tala now? While I was stuck in this cell?

Useless.

Absolutely Useless.

-o-

I don't know how long it was before they let me go. When the door opened to reveal That Man standing there and staring at me, I was at least half mad. I stared at him, or, at least, I stared in his general direction. My eyes hadn't seen any light for weeks and it was taking them a while to adjust.

"How's Tala?" I asked, my voice sounding surprising to my own ears. Even driven to madness by the darkness, my own thoughts and that _fucking_ sound, I'd never been one to talk to myself. I hadn't used my voice since talking to Tala after I'd hurt him.

I heard That Man take a sharp breath at my question. "Pathetic."

My lips quirked upwards into a humourless smile. "Maybe," I conceded. I pushed myself to my feet, using the wall for support. I'd kept myself in good condition while I was locked in the cell. I'd always made sure to exercise, despite not being able to see my hand in front of my face. It was important to me that I remained at full strength despite my ordeal. "Am I free?"

His lips curled into a smile that mirrored mine before he stepped aside and gestured for me to leave the cell. "Of course not." He waited for me to walk past him before his hand darted out, holding on to my shoulder painfully tightly. "Remember, Kuznestov, _You are mine_."

* * *

Once again, baby-Tala makes me squiggle with delight.

Please tell me what you think.


	18. Homecoming

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **So I'm drowning in exams and assignments at the moment and am posting this as procrastination. Good, healthy procrastination.

Big thanks to **Kishazi** for not only offering to be my sounding board but also to beta-read for me and for putting up with my crazy-lady tendencies without labelling them as such. Big HUGE thanks.

* * *

It had been a week since Brooklyn had left and I still couldn't shake the feeling that That Man was looking over my shoulder and nodding with approval. To him, the fact that I couldn't keep a leash on my temper, even around people I cared about, _especially_ around people I cared about, would have been a sign of success. He'd been successful in breeding a monster.

Sven flicked my ear with his good hand. "You're spacing again," he chided. "Thinking about Brooklyn?"

I hadn't told him about what had happened between us. I was too ashamed. Instead, I had brushed over the truth and told him that Brooklyn had decided to go back to Japan for the funeral before returning to Russia. Sven had taken that in his stride and had found us another client to tide us over.

Which is why we were standing outside, leaning against the retaining wall of an immaculate garden. We were at a party that, by ourselves, we wouldn't have had a hope in hell of being invited to and were doing our best to remain invisible. Our client, on the other hand, was ...busy making sure none of the attractive party-goers were carrying concealed weapons.

"Seriously?" Sven asked after one incredibly obvious pass. "He he even _heard_ of shame?"

I whistled lowly. "Apparently shame is optional."

"Why can't _I_ pick up girls like that?" Sven complained, patting down his pockets with his good hand to find a cigarette. He had been a social smoker before Kai attacked him but now he was reaching for them much more often. When I'd asked him about it, he'd brushed off my concern saying that the nurses had smelled so strongly of smoke that leaving the hospital had been like going cold turkey after a five-pack-a-day habit. I pretended to believe him, ignoring the way his hands shook every time he took out the pack.

Being attacked and disabled so viciously and efficiently tended to have lasting effects on people.

"You've got shame and morals?" I said absently scanning the room, looking for potential threats. This was a fairly easy job. The client was more paranoid than in any actual danger and he had the money to buy peace of mind. Sven and I were simply there on the _outside_ chance something went wrong.

"I also apparently lack in the money department," he said mournfully. "Life is _hard_."

"That it is," I agreed, mind not on Sven's woeful luck with the ladies.

Thing is, I missed Brooklyn. I missed his smile and the way that his eyes lit up whenever he found something interesting. I missed his voice, his devious intelligence and his habit of always seeing much more than you gave him credit for.

Mostly, I missed the way I felt around him, like my world was complete. He was the only person who had looked at me and understood. Even Tala, despite all that we had shared together, he had never understood me like that. He knew me and he had had the ability to keep me sane but he had never understood me.

I wanted Brooklyn to come back so I could tell him that. I wanted him to return so I could properly apologise. I wanted him to understand that it had been an accident, that I hadn't meant to hurt him. I _needed_ him to understand that so we could return to what we had been.

"Bryan!" Seven whispered urgently to me. "You spacing again?"

"Uh... yeah," I said apologetically. "Sorry."

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly before nodding to a thick clump of bushes. "Can you go tell our friend over there to bugger off? I don't think he's dangerous."

"Looks like he's armed with a camera," I observed, pushing myself off the wall and brushing the back of my pants off.

"Dangerous," Sven intoned, trying to keep his voice serious.

"Only to our guy's reputation." _And he doesn't seem too concerned with that at the moment_. I walked over to the clump of bushes Sven had indicated and clamped my hand on to the shoulder of a guy doing his best to hide in them. "Something tells me you weren't invited," I said pleasantly, making sure my fingers dug painfully into his collar bone.

The small, weedy-looking man jumped and looked over his shoulder at me, his eyes huge. "W-What?"

I nodded to the camera that now hung loosely in his hands. "Give me the memory card then get the hell out and we don't have to take this any further." Truthfully, I had no idea what taking this any further would entail. Technically photographers for gossip rags sneaking into parties to gather incriminating evidence wasn't any of my concern. He wasn't posing any immediate threat to my client. But... it was kind of fun watching him squirm.

"Aw, come on man. I've got a job to do, you know," He complained, his fingers groping at the side of his camera, trying to open the hidden flap for the memory card. "Can't you just kick me out or something?"

"I _could_ but then you wouldn't resent me quite as much and you might think that it's okay to break into any future parties I'm attending—Which would be a mistake on your part." Eventually, after a lot of fumbling, he placed a memory card in my hand.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. "Now the real one, if you would be so kind."

His face fell as he reached into the pocket he'd dropped the card into while he was pretending to fumble with his equipment. No professional would be so clumsy with his machine—at least, not without good reason. He put the real card in my hand, giving me a filthy look. "You happy? I had some great photos on that one too. Woulda made at least page three."

I closed my hand over the card and shrugged. "Next time don't hide in such an obvious place. Either that, or actually get invited."

He laughed, unamused. "Not likely." He slouched off toward the high wall surrounding the garden, presumably to the place he'd climbed over. I watched him leave, making a mental note of the section of wall he had used before returning to Sven.

"Photographer. He used the South-Eastern wall to get over," I reported, taking up my position next to my friend.

Sven whistled, dropping his now spent cigarette on to the grass and stamping it out. "Bastard was determined. That wall's covered with some kind of thorny plant. I know _I_ wouldn't want to be climbing over that."

We stood in companionable silence for a few minutes before Sven looked over to me. "Brooklyn comes back tomorrow, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. I have to go pick him up at the airport. Want to come?" I asked, hoping beyond all hope that he said yes. It would be good to have a buffer of a few people for the first few hours. I didn't know if I was ready to face Brooklyn by myself.

Sven smirked, "Nah. I don't think I want to see that."

-o-

When Brooklyn walked through the arrivals gate he looked tired. He wasn't dressed in his customary white outfit but had instead opted for more sombre shades of charcoal and grey. His eyes found me and an unreadable expression crossed his face.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I walked over to him cautiously. "Hey..." I said, wincing at how pathetic and wrong it sounded.

A wan smile appeared on his face. "Hey," he replied, not making any move towards me.

"I missed you."

Suddenly Brooklyn's eyes were looking everywhere but at me. "...Yeah."

I sighed quietly. It was no less than I deserved, really. In reality, Brooklyn should have returned to Japan and never come back to the idiot who had hit him. It was a small miracle that he had and I couldn't expect him to do any more than that. "Can I—Do you mind if I—" I frowned as the awkward words stumbled out of my mouth. "Bags?" I said finally, holding out my hand for them.

Brooklyn smiled at my apparent loss of the ability to speak and handed his bags over to me. I nodded and indicated that he should follow me as I turned and began heading for the exit.

"Did you drive?" Brooklyn asked, walking fast to catch up and walk beside me. Over the week the bruise on his jaw had faded. He had hidden it well underneath makeup but there were still a few last patches of darkness that showed what I had done. I wondered how he'd hidden it at Yamaguchi's funeral.

"Yeah. I borrowed Sven's car."

"Is that the one you use to get around when you're working?" Brooklyn asked, shivering as we walked into the freezing Russian air. "I forgot how cold it is here."

He tensed when I put an arm around his shoulders. "Is that a bit warmer?" I asked, trying to pretend that everything wasn't strange and awkward. I led him toward Sven's car.

Brooklyn didn't answer my question and didn't relax but didn't shrug my arm off either. I counted that as progress. He smiled as we reached the car. "It _is _the one you use for work. Are you sure it's roadworthy?"

"Probably not but it hasn't fallen apart yet," I said cheerfully, opening up the passenger door and holding it for Brooklyn as he got in. I walked around to the back of the car and threw Brooklyn's bags in before getting in behind the wheel.

"That's not really comforting, you know," Brooklyn said as I got in. "Does that mean that the car falling apart is more something that we're waiting to happen rather than a remote possibility?"

"...Possibly," I said with a small smile. "Enjoying living on the edge?"

Brooklyn grinned. "Always. I live dangerously."

-o-

Brooklyn let out a sigh of relief as we entered the hotel room. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked around at the plant-filled entryway. "You watered the plants!" he said, running an affectionate hand over one of the entryway's more leafy occupants.

I shrugged as I brought the bags into the living area. "It would have been a shame if they died because of a week of neglect. You've got so many in here that it'd be like a major jungle dying out."

"Thank you."

We stood in an awkward silence for a few seconds, unsure of what to say to each other. Or, more accurately, completely sure of what we wanted to say but unwilling to do so. The silence stretched out between us for a few more seconds before I couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry." I blurted out. "I'm not sure what else to say. I don't know what happened and then it happened and I didn't know what to do and then you left and I couldn't do anything because you weren't there and—" I trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow at me before sitting down on the couch, gesturing for me to do the same. "When was the last time you used so many words so fast?"

I blinked, thinking. "...a while," I said eventually. I narrowed my eyes as I detected something that I hadn't expected to see in Brooklyn's eyes. Was that... amusement? "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just, I expected this conversation to go differently in my head. While I was sitting on the plane I kept on imagining different ways it would go. Be aware, most of them ended with me slapping you and then storming out in tears and jumping on a plane back to Japan and getting on with my life."

"Fair," I conceded with a rueful smile. "I hope it was a good slap."

"In my mind you cried like a girl, don't you worry," Brooklyn assured me. "Anyway, I kept on imagining nightmarish situations and I was all ready for a throwdown in the airport if it came to that and then—" He sighed. "And then I saw you standing there and I realised I'd already forgiven you."

"How can you forgive me? _I_ don't forgive me."

"Called myself at least fifty kinds of idiot as I walked over to you and tried to work up some righteous anger."

"—_Justified_ righteous anger."

"Stop it." Brooklyn said mildly. "Every time you say something like that—putting yourself down—you're making this about you. Though I forgive you, this is _not_ about you and you don't get to make it that way." At my nod, Brooklyn smiled. "Can we stop talking about it now?" he asked.

"Can I at least make it up to you by being your slave for the next few days?" I asked. "It'd make me feel like less of a dick."

Brooklyn grinned, a gleam in his eyes. "Is that a slave in _every_ aspect?" He asked, biting his bottom lip.

I smirked and shrugged. "If that's what you want, _Master_" I said, spreading my arms and inclining my head, trying to channel some kind of genie effect. "Your wish is my command"

Brooklyn laughed that laugh I thought I'd never hear again. "You're going to regret that, you know," he told me affably, leaning towards me. "Now kiss me, bitch."

"I don't think calling me a bitch was part of the deal," I said as I leant in to do as I was told, pressing my lips against his gently in a kiss that I hoped conveyed how much I'd missed him.

I'd missed everything about him, really. The way he saw the world was just so different and alien from my own viewpoint and yet... it always seemed to make sense to him. And his sense of humour and his _laugh_. But, I think, in all the things I'd thought about and actively missed, I'd forgotten the way he kissed.

The way that he conveyed everything about himself into the simple movement of lips. The sweetness and gentleness and, underneath it all, the current of violence and passion that called to me. Everything about him made me crave more.

I ran my hand gently down the side of his face, stopping when I reached his jawline. "Does it hurt?" I asked, pulling away from him.

Brooklyn shook his head with a smile. "Not anymore."

I kissed the mark gently. "I'm sorry," I whispered again. "So sorry."

I felt a hand on my chest as he pushed me away. "I told you—It doesn't matter," he insisted. "Well... it does, but—" He sighed. "Look. You know how I can be... not the best person at times."

I smiled. "You're always the best person." Just sometimes you're downright frightening.

He smirked. "Flatterer. But I'm serious. I'm not always the nicest person and you put up with that. It's the same kind of thing." He shrugged. "Just don't do it again." He paused a few seconds, biting his lip. "And you could kiss me again."

As I complied I couldn't help but think about what Brooklyn had said and what he'd meant by it. To me, Brooklyn's other half, the violent and cruel side of him, the side that scared me and fascinated me, was just as much a part of him as his sweet and gentle side. Together, those two contradictory parts made a whole I couldn't get enough of.

But when he thought of me did he think the same thing? Did he see the me that had lashed out in anger as part of me as a whole? Did he think that I was the type of person who would allow himself to be consumed with violence whenever I couldn't handle things rationally?

I had been that person once. I'd needed to be. If I was going to survive in the Abbey I needed to be that person. But I'd put that life behind me and I thought I'd channelled my violence in a socially and morally acceptable way. I protected people. Hell, I'd protected Brooklyn. But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I was that person. The person who allowed violence to control him whenever it became too difficult to control himself.

I ran my hand through his hair as I deepened the kiss, loving the way he sighed quietly and relaxed into my touch.

Brooklyn trusted me not to be that person. He trusted that I wouldn't hurt him again. And I wouldn't. I knew in my heart that if it came to a choice between hurting Brooklyn and taming that part of myself that had helped me cope and survive for all of those years, Brooklyn would win out.

I broke the kiss but didn't pull away. Instead I stayed there, our noses just touching and our breath mingling. I should have told him that I loved him at that moment. I should have told him that I would do anything both in my power and out of it to protect him. Instead, I sat there, feeling the need to say those things and tell him everything that was running through my mind but unable to channel those feelings into speech.

Feelings were a sign of weakness and the worst thing someone could do is reveal their secrets. Even to someone they believe they can trust. Once weaknesses are revealed they have a funny way of being targeted by your enemies.

Or, at least, that was how I was taught. So I stayed silent and simply enjoyed the moment.

I think he knew what I was thinking anyway.

-o-

"When do you start work again?" I asked. We were lying on the floor, having given up on the couch as not roomy enough and having decided that the bedroom was too far away. Brooklyn's head was comfortably resting on my shoulder with one arm flung possessively over me.

"I don't. Or, at least, I don't for a while."

I blinked. "What?" I pushed myself up so I could look down at Brooklyn, dislodging him with a squeak in the process. "What do you mean you don't start work again?"

"While I was in Japan I announced that I was taking a break from my career to regroup and recover from the shock of losing Ken in such a horrible way. I've been successful enough there that I can afford a few months away to solve the problem of Kai once and for all. Also, I get to spend some quality time with my bodyguard." He smirked as his eyes roved over my body. "Time I fully intend to make use of."

I frowned. "What? Why would you do something like that? You _do_ know the industry you're in, don't you?" He stared at me with an infuriating calm in his eyes. "At the moment you're the hottest thing but that might not be true in a few weeks. Maybe by then they would have found someone new to replace you. If you leave now you might not have a place to go back to."

Brooklyn smiled his easy smile and leaned forward to peck me on the cheek. "You sound like Ken."

"Probably just channelling his outrage at what you're throwing away to be here," I said, unwilling to let him change the topic before he'd explained himself.

Brooklyn sighed. "I'm not throwing away anything. I'm... taking some time. And so what if I come back to my career to find that it's not there anymore? I've been the best in the field before and had that taken away from me too." He shrugged. "I'll just find something else."

"You can't just keep picking up different careers and expecting that you'll become the best at everything."

He scoffed. "I'm not an idiot, Bry."

"You're acting like one."

Something in him changed. "So you're telling me that you'd rather I stay in Japan than come back here to you?" he asked, his voice flat and his eyes hard. "That I made a mistake coming back?" He blinked and that hardness was gone, leaving that same expression that had been on his face when he realised that everyone had left him after Yamaguchi's death. "Did I make a mistake?"

I blinked. "What— I— No!" I stammered. "No, you didn't make a mistake." I ran the back of my hand down his cheek, hoping that the contact would drive my message home. "You coming back here was, for me, the best thing you could have done." I sighed. "I just wish you weren't throwing away everything you've worked hard for in order to do it."

He smiled and resumed his position of resting on my shoulder. "I told you, I'm not throwing everything away," he said as he wriggled to get comfortable next to me, he draped an arm over my chest and sighed contentedly. After a few seconds I heard him whisper quietly.

"I love you, Bry."

I didn't answer him, too exhausted and emotionally drained by our argument. Brooklyn had a knack for knocking the wind out of me with only a few words. And yet... all I wanted to do was answer him.

But I didn't.

* * *

Please tell me what you think

No, seriously, please review. It'd make my hell-week o'exam seem just that little bit brighter and would give you incredibly good karma.


	19. Sweet Domesticity

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, so coolest thing _ever_. There is _fanfic_ of this fanfic. Go check out the third chapter of **phoenixandtiger's** _500 Themes: Odd Pairings, Character Centrics And_ (It's in my favourites) to have a look. It's amazing and awesome and amazing and *cuts self off* you get the idea XD Go read it. _Now_.

Also, I'm officially on holidays! Hopefully I'll have a chance to catch up on my writing for this. Alternatively, I could use all my spare time to procrastinate (Likely)

* * *

Coming back into the office after a difficult day at work was always a relief. Now that we didn't have Brooklyn as a regular client we'd gone back to doing whatever jobs we could find. That day it had been a particularly tedious one involving a spoiled heir and rather too much complimentary vodka at a launch. After that, simply sitting around the office at the end of the day was a Godsend.

"Is Kai still a concern?" Sven asked, experimentally stretching and flexing his arm. The cast had been removed two days ago and he was trying to move it as much as possible to speed up his recovery time. "We haven't heard from him in ages."

"Kai doesn't rush into things. If we haven't heard from him it's because he hasn't wanted to contact us, not because he's given up," I said, sharpening my new knife. I'd given up on ceramic knives. Though they far outmatched steel in their sharpness, they were way too fragile. However, I would miss being able to carry weapons past metal detectors.

"Sure about that?" Jelena asked, poking her head into the weapons room.

"More than sure. Kai doesn't give up on things; he follows them through to the end. Anything else would be... messy," I said with certainty.

It had been weeks since my bizarre chat with Kai, weeks since Brooklyn had come back to Russia, and I hadn't heard from Kai at all. I knew he was around, though. Sometimes, out of the corner of my eye I'd catch a glimpse of his scarf disappearing around a corner or I'd find a scrunched up empty packet of his favourite brand of cigarettes. Kai was still definitely around. It just seemed that he was content just to watch.

I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I've got to go," I said, sheathing the knife and strapping it securely to my wrist underneath my shirt. Now that I spent so much time with Brooklyn, I never went unarmed anywhere. The constant vigilance was exhausting—like I was back at the Abbey again—but I would never forgive myself if I was unprepared when Kai decided to stop watching. I was unprepared when Yamaguchi was killed and I refused to be caught out like that again.

"Brooklyn?" Jelena asked.

I smiled ruefully. "Considering he doesn't technically have a job anymore, he manages to get himself invited to an awful lot of things."

"What is it tonight?" Sven asked, his voice sharp.

"Charity," I said shortly, shrugging. "Some of the work Brooklyn did here before... well, before, has made him a bit of a name around here. People are falling over themselves to get him on their guest lists. I'm not even sure what the cause is."

"Probably something worthwhile," Jelena said, throwing herself back into the desk chair as I emerged from the weapons room. She began gathering her hair up and tied it into a loose pony tail, the loose strands spilling over her shoulders.

"Probably," I agreed. "Staying here tonight?"

"Probably. Sven's busy chasing a new client, hoping to maybe get something regular out of him. We need some background information first, though. We need to know what we're getting into."

"Oh?" I looked over at Sven who was emerging from the weapons room. "New client? Why haven't I heard about this?" I questioned. It wasn't that Sven hadn't sourced new clients by himself before. With his charming smile and easygoing attitude, he was the most successful of at team at convincing people they really did need some protection. But normally whenever Sven found a new target he would run it past me before he made the first move. This was the first I'd heard of anyone new.

Sven shrugged. "You haven't been around much lately—doing things with Brooklyn. Things are getting a little tight."

"You didn't tell me?" I accused more than asked.

"Come, have a smoke with me," he invited, beckoning with his head to the outdoors.

"I don't smoke," I said automatically.

"Come anyway."

I shot a confused look to Jelena, who simply shrugged and turned to the computer, tapping at the keyboard like it had wronged her. I followed Sven outside.

It was no longer the dead of winter. It wasn't anyone's definition of warm either, mind you, but it was nice, almost pleasant, to stand outside. I watched Sven light up and inhale deeply, blowing the smoke out in a long stream as he thought.

"Are you okay?" he asked eventually.

"I—What?" I asked, frowning. "What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. Are you okay?" he repeated, holding the cigarette between two of his fingers and idly watching the smoke rise into the air. "You always come at the last possible minute, leave as soon as you can, and you look beyond exhausted. What's going on?"

"Why didn't you tell me about the new client?" I asked, unsure how to answer his question.

"You weren't here to tell," Sven said simply. "You don't stop to talk anymore—just do your job and leave."

"I'm sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Can't live without me to make your decisions for you?" I asked sarcastically.

A look of hurt crossed Sven's face. He brought his cigarette to his lips to hide it. "I think you need to stop and think about what you're doing. You can't keep going like this, Bry. You're never off guard and it's killing you. Before this, I worked with people like you who never switched off. It doesn't end well. I've seen it happen. It's not pretty and it's not what you want for yourself."

I scoffed. "Like you know anything about it," I said, reaching out and taking the smoke from him. I dropped it on the ground and stubbed it out with my foot. "I'm not the only one killing myself." I reprimanded before turning and walking away.

"Bryan!"

I ignored my partner, too caught up in my own thoughts to give him much notice. Who was he to judge what I did in my personal life? I was always there to do my job and I was still good at doing it. Only the other day I'd saved Sven's arse by pushing him out of the way of a particularly vicious ex-heiress with a grudge against the new favourite and terrible aim with a handgun. I just had other, non-work-related things to think about now. That wasn't a crime. Nor was it something he had to butt into.

And yet...

I couldn't ignore the niggling feeling that I had, telling me that Sven and I had been more than simply colleagues. We'd been friends. And now... I simply didn't have time. Before everything I might not have acted that way. I might have tried to understand Sven's point of view or I might have at least attempted not to hurt him but I just didn't have the energy anymore.

My phone rang and I stabbed the answer button as I pressed it to my ear. "Yeah?"

"_You almost home?"_

"Yeah. I left about five minutes ago and I'm walking home now," I said, looking around before I crossed the street. "Why? You miss me?" I asked, smiling. "Couldn't wait to hear my voice?"

He laughed. "_Something like that," _he said. I could hear him moving around as he spoke to me—probably getting ready for the party.

I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. Despite my annoyance with Sven, he did have a point. Between work and Brooklyn I was beyond tired. "Listen, do you think it'd be possible for us to stay in tonight?" I asked. "It's been a long day and—"

"—_Bry, you know we can't do that,"_ Brooklyn interrupted. _"I've already told them we're going. They're counting on us being there. Besides,_" his voice took on a wheedling tone, "_I happen to know for a fact that Vladimir Gregorovich is going to be there and rumour has it that he's had a falling out with his current bodyguard_."

I sighed. There was nothing I wanted less than to try and chat up some random potential client who'd already pissed off one bodyguard. People like that were normally more trouble than they were worth. "That sounds great, Brook, but all I really want to do is have an early night," I tried. I reached my building and opened the door, climbing the stairs two at a time.

After a week of living at the hotel, we had realised that it would be much more practical for Brooklyn to simply move in with me. I'd been embarrassed to show him my rundown home but after a few days of quiet dismay Brooklyn had set about making the place his own. If I was honest, I would say how the place had gone from being a generic, transient home I'd been comfortable and happy in to being something... else. Though I'd never changed anything about the place, never even performed any basic maintenance, it had been undeniably mine.

Now it was undeniably Brooklyn's.

I opened the door and fought my way through the small jungle that had materialised near it. All of Brooklyn's plants had been moved from the hotel to my apartment and they'd yet to find a convenient home that didn't involve me tripping over them every five seconds.

"Look, I know what you mean but—" Brooklyn looked over his shoulder and saw me, a smile immediately coming to his face. He snapped his phone shut. "Hey, stranger."

"Miss me?" I asked with an answering grin, taking my phone from my ear and dropping it in my pocket.

He declined to answer, instead opting to wrap his arms around me and press his lips to mine. And I remembered why I kept going despite the exhaustion that lay just around the corner. He was worth it.

"Do we really have to go?" I asked when he pulled away. "It's just a charity ball, we can pretty safely skip it."

He sighed and detangled his arms from around me. "I gave my word, Bry. They're expecting us." He took a few steps away to grab the white jacket he'd thrown over the couch's arm. "I've put your tux on the bed, all you have to do is put it on."

"They're expecting fifty other people to show up too, you know," I countered. "Life can go on without us for one night."

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed slightly. "Fine," he snapped. "You can stay here and do whatever it is that you want to do. _I'm_ going." He began going through his things, running through a mental checklist of the things he'd need for the night.

A wicked gleam came into his eye. "Who knows? Maybe I might find someone else? Surely this country has more than one gorgeous man willing to put up with me and my wild partying ways." He grinned, making me smirk despite myself. "Please, Bry? Come with me tonight and we'll spend the next week at home doing _whatever_ you want to do."

"Bribing me with sex now? Have we reached that point?" I asked, feeling the fight in me give out. I'd known it was going to happen this way from the start, really. When Brooklyn wanted something he never failed to get it. And I could never fail to do anything in my power to make it that way.

"Bribing you with _good_ sex," Brooklyn said, leaning up to kiss me on my jawline. He traced my jaw with his lips, kissing his way along until his lips reached mine for a gentle kiss filled with promise. "Go get dressed," he said as he pulled away.

I sighed and mock-saluted, slouching to the bedroom to find the suit Brooklyn had chosen for me. At least after tonight I'd have a week to recover from the bone-deep tiredness that was leaching into everything I did. Maybe then I'd have the energy to repair whatever damage I'd done to Sven's and my friendship.

-o-

I hate parties; They remind me of my childhood. A while bunch of people thrown together in a room with none of them really wanting to be there. The feeling and energy of a hundred people navigating the turbulent waters of society, knowing exactly who to pretend to like and who to firmly put in their place sets my skin crawling.

But Brooklyn was at home. He smiled his easy smile and spoke to everyone, effortlessly recalling trivial details about their lives. He never misstepped, always careful to show deference to those in favour and to never be seen with anyone out of it. The first time we'd gone to something like this I'd pulled him aside to ask him how he did it. He'd smiled and told me that he always kept in mind the fact that he didn't matter to any of the people he talked to. If he was the next person out of favour it wouldn't affect anyone apart from giving them something new to talk about. "So," he'd concluded, "because I don't matter to them, they don't matter to me. When you can see that, the rules of the game become clear."

I'm still not sure whether I was comforted by that logic or deeply disturbed by it. It seemed impossible to me for Brooklyn to act the way he did and not care and yet, I saw the coldly calculating way he'd size up a room before entering it and the way he would blithely ignore the hurt of people who'd fallen out of favour.

I felt a warm hand snake its way around mine to hold it securely. "You look like you're stoically carrying out some kind of jail term, Brooklyn whispered to me, his voice laced with amusement. "Are you okay?"

I sighed and nodded. "Yeah, just tired is all."

Brooklyn smiled and kissed me on my cheek, a brief flutter of lips that was barely there before it was gone again. "Only a few more hours, promise," he said, his hand squeezing mine. "Until then, do you want to meet the man I was telling you about? The one who might be needing a bodyguard sometime soon?"

"Do I have to?" I asked futilely as Brooklyn, heedless of my reluctance, began to drag me through the crowd. "I was happy just to stand in a corner for the rest of the party."

He looked over his shoulder with an exasperated smile, "I _know_. You totally missed the point of coming to a place like this."

In truth I'd actually been very comfortable, even to the point of almost enjoying myself, hiding n the corner. Occasionally, I'd cross paths with another bodyguard and we'd exchange some awkward small talk. In an industry that so often involves standing around and doing jack-all you begin to recognise and commiserate with your competition. They all assumed I was at the ball working and I hadn't done anything to dispel their beliefs. It was nice. All it needed was to have Sven's lively commentary and I would have been fine. Though parties themselves always reminded me of my childhood, watching them from the peripheries gave me the feeling of a voyeur.

"Vladimir! Sorry it took me so long to find him. He was hiding in a corner," Brooklyn said, leading me up to a man with his back to us. Vladimir turned and I froze.

I knew that face. His hair had turned from blonde to white in the years since I'd seen him but those dark eyes hadn't changed at all since I'd committed them to memory. It was the guard who had threatened to kill Tala all of those years ago. Some rational part of me knew that it was That Man who threatened Tala and that the guard was only doing his job. That part was drowned out by the chorus of hatred that blocked out all sound except the beating of my heart.

He looked at me with an expression of polite interest and untangled his hand from around the waist of an incredibly blonde woman in order to hold it out for me to shake. "Only in the corner? You weren't really trying, were you?" he asked. "Vladimir Gregorovich."

He didn't recognise me.

I forced down the violent urge that made me want to see that man dead. It wouldn't do to kill him now. At least, not yet. I took his hand and pasted a somewhat-smile-trying-not-to-be-a-grimace on my face. "Bryan... Kon," I said, some part of my brain realising that even if he didn't recognise my face he would probably know my name. Unfortunately, the good, thinking side of my brain was too busy with that idea to think of a better name.

Brooklyn shot me a look but was kind enough not to comment.

Vladimir looked at me oddly. "Kon?" He repeated.

I managed what might have generously been called a smile if one were blind and mentally impaired. "My family explored China back in the day. We gave it up generations ago but the name stuck around."

Pathetic and lame excuse, sure, but Vladimir seemed to buy it, nodding thoughtfully. "I see. I hear you're in the business of personal protection?"

I hate it when people try to euphemise my job. I think they do it out of some sense of embarrassment like they couldn't _possibly_ need someone to keep them safe. Oh no. I'm in the business of personal protection. Good sense, really, the same way people need possession protection in the form of a burglar alarm or by building a pointy fence around their houses.

"I'm a bodyguard, yes." I said simply, noting the slight frown that crossed his face when I said the word.

"Brooklyn has spent the past half hour extolling your virtues to me," he said drily.

"And you sat through it without telling him to shut up?" I asked with a grin.

He blinked and answered my smile. "I confess, he was telling me all about how you saved him from his stalker. He made it all sound very interesting and exciting."

I inclined my head. "Is it bad that it was so interesting that I sincerely hope I never have to do it again?" I asked. "Brooklyn was telling me about you before the party but he never actually got around to telling me what you do?"

Despite not naturally being a diplomatic person, during my time working with Sven and Jelena I'd had to charm a few potential clients in order for us to survive. I could feel myself slipping into that calm state of banter and flattery despite the violence inside me screaming for Vladimir's blood. Despite his pleasant words I could see that he hadn't changed at all since he'd forced a small boy to beat his best friend. The coldness and detachment in his eyes was still there. Here was a man who would do anything to achieve his goals.

He shrugged self-depreciatingly. "I'm simply involved in business. I try not to keep all of my eggs in one basket, as they say. However, sometimes my business involves me with some... dangerous men." He said after a small pause.

Sven and I had had clients like this one before. Normally they were involved in business that not only had dangerous men but dangerous men with dangerous weaponry. And because they were too busy chasing the elusive cash dream they were normally too stupid to see the situations that they walked into. Or, worse, they knew exactly what they were walking into and believed they had big enough guns to get out alive with only some of their lackeys left behind.

I was willing to bet money that Vladimir was part of the second group. I've made it my business to know as little about the place I grew up in as possible. However, I assume that the guards knew they weren't there for the most savoury of reasons. Vladimir had dealt with That Man directly and survived. He now believed he could deal with anything as long as he had the right people in front of him to catch the bullets

I nodded like I understood and smirked. "Not a problem for us." I paused for a few seconds before gesturing to one of the large doors leading to outside the large hall. "Would you like to come outside so we can discuss this a little more freely?"

He waited a few seconds before nodding. He turned to say a few words to his female companion and steeped away from her indicating I should follow him as he began to head for the door. I turned to try to do the same with Brooklyn only to find him in a conversation on the other side of the room.

That didn't mean that he wasn't watching, though. I caught his eye and indicated to Vladimir and the door. He nodded slightly and I turned to follow Vladimir outside.

* * *

Please tell me what you think


	20. A Violent Reaction

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay...

Actually, scratch that, totally not sorry. The reason this chapter is so heinously late is because I spent a week in Thailand experiencing the best shopping of my LIFE, playing spot the ladyboy and riding ELEPHANTS! Totally. Not. Sorry. Maybe a little contrite but that's about the extent of it.

Also, if you've got a little bit of time to kill you should totally go check out **my blog** (You can find the link in my profile) which is new and shiny and is a place where I'm going to talk about writing and literary stuff (very technical XD) as it relates to fan fiction. If nothing else, it might be funny XD

* * *

I followed Vladimir to a small, secluded courtyard boasting a sad looking fountain and a stone seat that made me feel cold just looking at it. Though we were still technically within the boundaries of the ball, I could no longer hear the party and it was unlikely that anyone else would have left the warmth of the ballroom.

I wasn't very sure what I was going to do. One part of me demanded that Vladimir not leave that place with the ability to walk still intact. The other, more rational, part demanded that I wait for a more opportune time to start with the leg breaking.

He stopped and turned, a small smirk on his face. "It took me a little while, you know."

I frowned. "What?"

"—To place your face. It took me a while. Kuznetsov, right?"

The parts of my body that hadn't already frozen in the cold turned to ice. "And here I'd thought you'd just forgotten me," I managed.

He let out a short bark of laughter, "Forget one of the most vicious animals I've ever come across? Not likely." He folded his arms to regard me. "You've grown."

"You've grown old," I retorted. I could feel a wave of violence begin to overtake me, infusing my limbs and ridding them of the strength-sapping cold. A low humming had begun in the background of my thoughts.

"So you've now hooked up with another of Balcov's failures, right?" he asked, folding his arms and regarding me. He seemed utterly unconcerned for his safety, unaware that with every second of hearing his voice I was slipping back into the person I had been.

"Seems a better deal than whatever bimbo you had hanging off your arm tonight."

He laughed. "What, because you can have deep and meaningfuls about your past?" My eyes narrowed, making him smirk. "Or so you can ignore it while fucking each other's brains out?"

The humming grew louder.

"You have no right to talk. At least Brooklyn has a brain, more than I can say for your date."

"And let's all be grateful for that. Giving her any kind of brain would just be a waste." He sighed pointedly and looked down at his watch. "Well, this has been a fun chat and all but if you don't have anything interesting to say I believe that we're done here?" He turned his back to me and waved one insolent hand. "I'll tell Balcov you said hi."

I lunged for him; the humming had turned to a roar and was all I could hear, infusing and permeating my being. I attacked him with a quick chop to the kidneys before wrapping my arm around his neck and choking him.

His arms shot up in a much faster reaction than I'd anticipated, using his elbow to hit me in the solar plexus while the other pushed my arms away as all the breath left my body. I staggered backwards, trying to regain my air with my eyes never leaving him.

He grinned a feral grin. "I never doubted your viciousness but I _was_ wondering if your new toy had softened you. Good to see you'll still attack someone from behind."

I snarled and lunged for him again. I didn't have time or energy to waste on words. All I could hear was the roar in my ears and all I could see was my target. I attacked with a viciousness that I think surprised him. There was no real technique in the blows I rained down on him, only fury. I kneed him in the groin and backhanded him across the face before pulling him upright to deliver some punishing blows to his sides and torso.

He tried to block most of my blows but his efforts became weaker with every successful hit until I wasn't even bothering to bat away his arms. Some part of me knew that I was going too far, some part of me knew that I should stop. But that part had been wrapped up in the warmth of the violence that had taken over me and shoved into the back recesses of my brain. That part of me wasn't in control anymore.

I shoved him back, watching with satisfaction as, deprived my support, his legs gave way and crumpled beneath him. He hit the ground hard, still conscious but unable to will his body to do anything but lie there.

Instead of leaving it there, as my rational mind would have told me to do, I leapt on him. I can't quite put into words what I was thinking at the time because I'm pretty sure I wasn't thinking. The violence had taken over and there was nothing left to do but do its bidding. And, at that moment, that was to literally tear Vladimir limb from limb.

I followed him down to the ground and began attacking him again, I don't think I cared where my punches landed, only that they did and that I was rewarded with the sound of his pained groans. It was the only thing that penetrated the roar of the violence in my head. It joined with it and helped to further feed the rage that had become my being.

A heavy weight ran into my side and threw me off Vladimir and on to the ground next to him. I snarled and turned my focus to the new enemy, attacking with a frantic desperation. If Vladimir had friends I needed to get back in control before he recovered and they both started attacking me. I punched my new enemy's face while simultaneously using my other hand to dig into his side. I used my legs to flip our positions so I was no longer at a disadvantage.

"Bryan!"

The roar continued as I began attacking in earnest.

"Bryan!"

Once again there was no technique to my attacks, only an unplanned frenzy.

Giving up on trying to block me, my opponent managed to land a weak blow across my cheek.

"Bryan!"

Something about the tone of voice broke through the roar and the rational part of me, the part that wasn't drunk with bloodlust was allowed to come to the surface again. I looked down at my enemy, my whole body heaving as I fought to regain my breath.

I froze when I recognised the shock of bright orange hair and those teal eyes staring up at me in both fear and shock.

I stared into those eyes for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds. I didn't know what I was trying to see. I had lost control. I had lost control and now Brooklyn was staring up at me with a thin trail of blood running down from his split lip.

The choked sound of laughter broke through my concentration, shattering the moment. I turned to look at the bloody form of Vladimir. He had managed to pull himself up into a half-sitting position and had one protective arm over his stomach while he grinned at me. "Still nothing more than an animal," he said slowly. "Given the slightest provocation you'll turn on your master." He looked over at Brooklyn and spat blood on the ground, "Fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

I made to lunge at him again but was stopped by Brooklyn's hand on my shoulder. I paused and looked down at him. Or what had been my Brooklyn and had turned into the other, more violent side of him. All trace of human emotion was gone from his eyes as he pulled himself out from under me, his eyes never leaving his. "It's interesting you should say that."

It was about then that the adrenalin gave out and whatever had been holding me up after such a mad rush of energy disappeared. I felt my arms turn to jelly and fell messily on the ground. I tried to listen in to Brooklyn but his voice had fallen to a deadly whisper and I couldn't make out individual words.

So instead I was left with my own thoughts. The thoughts that I would have given anything not to be thinking.

Vladimir was right— I was still nothing more than an animal. I couldn't stop myself when I lost control and now look at what had happened. I'd hurt Brooklyn again (I still maintain Vladimir deserved exactly what was coming to him). I'd hurt Brooklyn because he'd interfered probably in order to stop me from killing Vladimir. And I couldn't even tell the difference between him and another enemy.

Brooklyn's hand on my shoulder broke me out of my reverie. I looked up to see eyes that were still stormy and passionate with the aftershock of violence but were mostly my Brooklyn again. "Next time you don't want to come to a party I'll listen to you," he said, a hint of wryness in his voice. "Do you need help up?"

I mutely shook my head and tried to get my arms under me to start pushing myself off the ground. Only to fall back down again with a painful thump. Why was Brooklyn being kind to me? Why hadn't he simply left, recognising that I was a despicable thing that couldn't even keep control when it meant keeping him safe?

His sure hands found their way under my shoulders and began lifting. "Come on, Bry." He said between clenched teeth. "I need your help here."

I forced myself up in a standing position, stumbling to a tree to steady myself in preference to any more help from Brooklyn. "Leave," I said quietly. "You don't want to be here, not with me."

His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knitted together "How on earth do you know what I want?"

"How could anyone want _this?_" I countered, "I wish I had a mirror so you could see yourself. You wouldn't want to be here then either."

Brooklyn sighed an exasperated sigh before covering the short distance between us in one stride. "Idiot," he whispered, gently running his fingers down the side of my face. "I can feel myself plenty enough and I'm still here, aren't I?" He forced my chin upwards a looked at me in silence for a few seconds before pressing his lips against mine in a gentle yet fiercely passionate kiss.

I tried to jerk away when I tasted the tangy, coppery flavour of his blood but was held in place with a far-too-strong hand at the back of my head. I had obviously received a few blows from Vladimir and had missed them in the frenzy. I could feel them now, though. Vladimir had had training so though he only got in a few blows he had made them count. I couldn't imagine what Brooklyn was feeling.

...Actually, that's a lie. I could imagine _all too well _what Brooklyn was feeling. But I didn't want to think about it.

Brooklyn pulled away from the kiss slowly, licking his lips. "I have to go for just one second and then I'll be back," he promised before leaving me to walk back towards the building. Without Brooklyn's support I sagged against the tree I'd pulled myself up with. I scanned the clearing. Nothing had changed, not really, a few scuff marks in the dirt was about all the evidence that something had happened there. Scuff marks and- I frowned as I discerned a huddled shape pressed firmly against one of the large hedges that ringed the courtyard.

The huddle moved, flashing a glimpse of blond. Vladimir.

"At least I know you deserved it," I said, mostly to myself.

"Shut up Shut up Shut up SHUT UP"

I blinked, startled, before I realised that Vladimir equally wasn't talking to me. He was directing his words to the demons that haunted him.

Brooklyn returned and crouched beside Vladimir to whisper a few words to him. Vladimir cringed away, crying out when Brooklyn placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Brooklyn smiled and said a few more words to him in a murmur before standing and walking over to me. If I hadn't been watching I probably would have missed the violence in his eyes before it was safely tucked away again, hidden beneath the eyes of my Brooklyn.

"I've alerted the security guards so they know where to find him. We, on the other hand, will probably have to get out the back way." He snaked a hand around mine and held it firmly. "There should be a gate in the back wall... somewhere," he said, scanning the surroundings to determine our route. He began moving but was pulled up short when I stayed stationary.

He turned to look askance at me. "You coming?"

I shook my head mutely. "I can't hurt you again."

"You'll hurt me much worse if you don't start moving right now," he said, a serious tone to his voice. He smiled as he leant in to peck me on the cheek. "We'll talk about it when we get home, promise."

I opened my mouth to protest again but was stopped by a look. I wasn't leaving without him.

I sighed and pushed myself off the tree, ready to follow.

-o-

The door shut behind me with an ominous click. We'd made our way home in silence and now that door closing signalled something final. We had to talk about it and now- given the opportunity, I found that it was the last thing I could possibly want to do. Still, I steeled myself and turned to Brooklyn, opening my mouth to begin telling him why I had to leave, why it wasn't safe with me, how incredibly sorry I was.

Brooklyn's finger pressed gently against my lips stopped me. "Don't start there."

I frowned. "Start where?" I asked, moving my head so I could speak clearly.

"At the part where you berate yourself and declare that the only way to fix this is for you to leave," Brooklyn said with a small smile. "It's not happening, so there's no reason why we need to even talk about it."

"But—"

"—Ah," Brooklyn interrupted. "Unless you've got something to say about how you're sticking around for a good, long time I don't want to hear it." He watched me coolly for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright, you can speak now."

"I'm sorry." I said, running a thumb across his split lip. "I don't know what happened."

"You lost control. It happens." He shrugged. "Besides, I _did_ get in your way. I just didn't want you to get done for murder."

"But I should have known- I shouldn't have lost it like that. I don't want you to see that part of me. Hell, I don't want to be that part of me. I don't-"

Brooklyn's lips on mine again silenced me. He pulled back and smiled. "I know," he said simply. "I understand."

"But if you understand then why don't you want to get out while you still can?" I asked.

"Now you're just talking nonsense," he chided. "Now are you going to help me?" He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it carelessly on the couch before beginning to work on the buttons on his shirt. "I need someone to help me inspect the damage."

I hissed in sympathy as his shirt came off to reveal his bare chest. There were several patches scattered over his skin that were darkening into painful-looking bruises.

Brooklyn frowned at my expression. "Whatever it looks like, it doesn't hurt as bad as that." He said amicably before looking down at himself and whistling. "I'm pretty sure I saw some cream in the bathroom that's supposed to help with bruises," he said to himself, turning.

He was stopped by my hand on his shoulder. "Go to bed. I'll find it."

There was a beat before he nodded and changed direction.

I quickly found the tube and followed him to the bedroom. Under the softer light the bruises looked even worse, marring his perfect skin. "I'm sorry, Brooklyn. So sorry."

"You say that again and you won't even be able to imagine the kind of bruises I'll give you," he threatened. "Now are you going to just stand there or are you going to come help me?"

I sighed and climbed on to the bed, finding a spot that allowed me easy access to his wounds but also allowed me to sit a bit away from him. I didn't want to touch him, afraid I'd hurt him even more.

I unscrewed the lid and squeezed the cream onto my fingers, rubbing my hands together to get some semblance of warmth before laying my hands on what seemed to be the worst of the marks.

Brooklyn squeaked and shifted, making me freeze. "Are you okay?" I asked, annoyed at the nervousness in my voice.

"Yeah. It's just cold."

"I'm s—"

Brooklyn batted my hands away and sat up, a hard look in his eyes. "Stop it," he ordered, an unusual firmness in his voice. "Before today I could probably count the number of times you've said that word to me on one hand." He reached out to run one hand down the side of my face, fingers ghosting over my skin. "I _liked_ that."

His hand travelled down to my jaw where he gripped it gently but firmly, holding me steady so he could look into my eyes. "I love you," he said quietly. He held my gaze for a few more seconds before his face broke into a grin. "Now kiss me?"

I complied, leaning forward to press me lips gently against his in a chaste kiss. A tilt of his head and a soft nip on my lower lip signalled that that wasn't going to cut it. He tangled a hand in the front of my shirt and jerked me forward roughly and my hands shot forward to land either side of his head to prevent me from falling and hurting him more.

I released his lips and began kissing a pathway over his face, beginning at the corner of his mouth and down to his chin. In my frenzy I'd managed to score a glancing blow on his cheek. On someone else I might have proclaimed that the dark mark forming was barely even a bruise but for Brooklyn—I kissed the area gently, not placing any pressure on it but letting my lips warm his cheek in some kind of comforting gesture.

A warm puff of air against my cheek signalled a sigh from Brooklyn, "Come on," he whispered, arching his back to press himself against me. When he sank back down to the bed his hand replaced his body, making its way down to my pants and applying gentle pressure.

I closed my eyes as all of my blood rushed down to that spot and I pressed myself against the warmth of his hand. It wasn't much but it was enough for the moment. "Impatient," I whispered, coming back to the dark mark on his cheek and pressing my lips to it again, opening my mouth to press my tongue against it.

Brooklyn let out a soft laugh as he removed his hand and wrapped his arm around my waist, trying to pull me down onto him. "And if I am?"

I lowered myself gently to lie flush against him, mindful of his injuries. They would have just begun to ache. "I'd tell you to slow down," I said, leaving his cheek to kiss my way over to his ear. I licked the shell of his ear before taking the lobe in my mouth and giving it my full attention.

He let out a shuddering sigh and moved his hips upwards, grinding them slowly against mine. "Now, Bry."

I let go of his ear and moved back far enough so I could see his face clearly. His hips never stopped their slow dance against mine. Without any real thought from me, I had begun to thrust slowly back against them, increasing the friction. Even that small movement with us both mostly clothed felt incredible. Which made it even harder for me to stop, to lift myself just enough so I could think clearly. "No—let me do this properly," I said, placing a kiss on his lips and pulling back.

A small growl of displeasure escaped from his lips. "Screw properly, I want it now." His hand travelled from around my waist downwards to squeeze my arse none-too-gently.

It took all my strength not to give into that. The pressure and heat from my groin had increased to an almost painful level and I would have loved nothing better than to lose myself in everything that was Brooklyn. But I didn't.

I supported my weight on one arm as I reached around to grab the wrist of his insistent hand. I pulled it off me and brought it back around to lie at his side. "Let me do this," I said again, holding his arm there as he let out a low whimper and gathered the sheet in his tightly bunched fist.

"Bry—"

I nuzzled underneath his jawline and hissed the side of his neck in answer. I found his pulse point with my lips and fastened my lips to it. I felt his heart shudder as I applied light suction to the point, releasing it quickly and licking the patch of skin in apology. Brooklyn let out a shaky breath as I continued travelling downwards, leaving a trail of kisses in my wake.

I found a spot on his collarbone where I'd landed a solid blow. The bruise was already an ugly purple colour and looked like it was only going to get worse. Carefully I kissed my way over the skin surrounding the discoloured patch and rested my cheek against the abused skin. It felt warm against my skin. He let out a quiet sound when I continued onwards, kissing and licking my way over all of the unblemished skin and gently caressing every dark patch.

I finished my journey on the small rise of his hipbone. The small bruise there wasn't from that night. Brooklyn always preferred it rough and passionate. He didn't like the implied intimacy of going slowly.

I pulled myself up so my face was level with his. "I'm sorry, Brooklyn," I said, placing a chaste kiss on his swollen lips.

He smiled and returned my kiss. "And like I've told you, if you say that one more time I'm going to have to hurt you." He let out an exaggerated sigh and gently pushed me off him, sitting up to look down at me. His arousal was still very obvious as he regarded me seriously. "You keep forgetting, don't you? I know what it feels like."

I couldn't help it, I scoffed. "You know what it's like to fly into a rage and come out of it while you're in the process of beating your boyfriend into the ground?" I asked my hand moving to trace small patterns on his chest, mindful to not touch any of the sore spots. He let out a small sigh as my fingers inadvertently brushed a nipple.

"Well... no," he conceded with a small smile, hand coming up to catch mine and stop my movements. "But I do know what it's like to have that monster inside you." His eyes sought out mine, making sure I was paying attention."I know what it's like to fight it constantly, struggling against it until all you want to do is scream and cry and tell it to just finish it already." His hand tightened around mine. "And then when all the fight has gone out of you and you open up the door to it. You don't do it because you want to, but because you simply can't stand the fighting the way it embraces you, you never thought you'd feel such warmth and bliss. Then it leaves you behind, voluntarily shutting the door again and you find that it's taken away the people you care the most about." He regarded me solemnly. "I know what that's like."

I stared at him, unable to work out what to say. Everything he'd said sounded like it had come out of my head, albeit in a much nicer way than I'd ever manage.

At my look he smiled and let out a quiet chuckle, letting my hand go to run his hand down my cheek. "I thought I told you when we met?" he said, leaning over to playfully lick the tip of my nose. "You're just like me."

"But you—" I began.

"—learned that people will leave you just as surely if you let the monster go with only your words."

He ended the discussion effectively by pressing his lips roughly against mine and moving to pull his body flush against mine. "Come on now," he whispered against my lips. "I'm done doing this properly."

With the warmth of his body against mine and his skilled hands making short work of my belt I was hard-pressed to disagree.

-o-

"Have you ever wondered what would happen if you just let it take over?"

I stirred. "Hm?" I asked, trying to pull my brain out of the pleasant haze it had fallen into. I drew in a deep breath, trying to ground myself in the real world again."Let what do what?" I moved my leaden limbs to drape one gently over Brooklyn's waist, holding him securely to me.

He squirmed briefly in my hold before finding a comfortable place and relaxing against me."If you just stopped trying to control it, the monster, I mean." He glanced over his shoulder at me before looking away again and addressing the wall next to our bed, "What if you just let it out to do whatever it wants? As long as you never came back you wouldn't be able to see the consequences. You'd be able to hide in ignorant bliss." He paused and closed his eyes for a few seconds, contemplating that before turning to look at me, his eyes bright in the gloom. "Have you ever wanted that?"

I thought about it, looking at the ceiling as I mulled over the question. "No," I said decisively. "I lived like that for a while— I gave up fighting and I let it take over me completely." I made a face at the memory. "But... I came back. It doesn't matter how much you try to hide. You'll always come back. It's what makes us better than animals. We fight."

Brooklyn sighed quietly and wrapped his arm around mine, entwining his fingers with mine. "Sometimes… I think I'll just stop fighting and I'll disappear. I almost did it once, I left the world and I created something new in my head, somewhere I didn't have to fight every day." He squeezed my hand gently."I sometimes think one day I'll go back there and I'll get lost for good."

I turned my head to give him a rough kiss on the side of his head. "If that ever happens I'll come find you." I paused for a second, gathering up all of my courage. "I… love you."

* * *

Now everyone say it with me! Expository dialogue disguised as a deep and meaningful is great!

...Isn't it? XD

Please tell me what you think


	21. Closing In

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Sorry once again for the delay ^^ I hope you enjoy.

* * *

It's amazing how incredibly bright light is when you haven't seen it for a while. I'd been in that room for what felt like an eternity of darkness with nothing else to do apart from contemplate how I really _couldn't_ see my own hand in front of my face and how the tone of the grating sound changed once every thirty-four rounds to a slightly duller screech.

Well, that and think about Tala's face when I had turned on him.

I held it together until I was out of That Man's sight. Then I stumbled. I couldn't see where I was going and, despite having forced myself to exercise in that room, my body was telling me that I hadn't attempted to walk this far in a long time and that it didn't appreciate my trying now. I reached out to feel the wall beside me and sunk into a crouch, burying my face in my knees and willing my eyes to adjust faster.

My eyes weren't the only thing suffering. After hearing only that noise for so long, the world was a loud shout of sound. Closing my eyes only intensified the effect. There was the buzzing of whatever air filtering and conditioning system they had thrumming at the base of it. Over that, the occasional sounds of footsteps as they walked through the corridor, some even walking straight past me. The echoing sounded like gunshots to my ears. And the hum of people's voices buzzing up and around all of that. It was all too much.

But after so long it was also simply glorious because it meant I had survived.

I opened my eyes slowly, wincing as the light once again invaded them. But this time I could make out dull shapes. I used the wall beside me to help as I slowly stood again. I knew the way out. I could make it. I needed to make sure Tala was okay.

Somehow I struggled through the twisting maze of corridors to get back to the dormitory and our shared room. It took me a long time and when I got there I could see colours again. My vision was still fuzzy but the world made sense again.

I knocked on the door to announce my presence before reaching for the handle. My fingers weren't quite working the way I wanted them to and after two attempts of trying to grab the handle, it twisted by itself and the door was opened for me.

I blinked and looked up, expecting to see Tala. Instead, there was a boy about my age that I'd never seen before. He glared at me with dark red eyes underneath a shock of blue hair. I stared at him for a few seconds, confused before looking past him and into the room.

"Kai, what are you—" Tala's voice abruptly stopped as he came into view. His leg was still bandaged and he was using a crutch to help him move. His skin, however, was mostly unmarked. So I'd been in the room for long enough for his superficial injuries to heal but not long enough for his leg to do the same.

"Bryan..." Tala whispered, fear and hurt in his voice. He flinched at my assessing gaze.

Kai's eyes narrowed in recognition of my name. He moved the door to block Tala from my gaze. "Your room's down the hall. Piss off." He shut the door in my face.

I stared dumbly at the door for a few minutes, trying to work what had just happened. I was no longer in the same room as Tala. That Man had probably seen to that. And Tala didn't want to see me. I had definitely seen to that.

I put my hand on the door, trying to will Tala to know how sorry I was. Maybe it was the time in the room sending my brain a little addled but I swore I could feel… something. I glanced up to see the name plate beside the door. Underneath Tala's name where mine used to be was a new one.

_Kai Hiwatari_.

Any stupid feeling I'd had about Tala accepting my apology disappeared. I had been replaced.

I staggered down the hallway, scanning the rooms until I came to one with my name on it. There was no other name next to it. Just mine.

It was rare for anyone in that place to get a room to themselves. In fact, I didn't think I'd ever seen it happen. That's not to say that beds weren't frequently empty. Just that everyone had their place and should something happen and they stopped needing it, someone would replace them.

I opened the door wonderingly.

If I was expecting anything special I was sorely disappointed. It was the same layout as the room I had shared with Tala: two beds on either side with a narrow gap between them and storage space underneath them. Except that this was all mine.

And all I could think was that I would rather be with Tala, lying on our beds with him telling me everything that had happened in my absence. I closed the door behind me with a click as I surveyed my surroundings. Tala had always made our room feel like a kind of sanctuary, like our refuge from the rest of that hellhole.

This was nothing like that. I looked around at the walls surrounding me and felt my breath get faster. The rooms had never felt so small before. I could taste the staleness of the air common to every small space. The walls loomed over me, slowly but surely creeping in. I could feel the air begin to thin out as the walls came closer and closer. This time they weren't going to let me go. Not this time. This time the room was going to keep me.

I scrabbled for the doorknob behind me, my eyes wide as I watched the room get smaller and smaller. My fingers got the handle but were too sweaty to get a proper grip. I tried again with more success, bursting out of the room. My breathing was ragged as I ran. I didn't care where I was going. I just needed to get out. I needed to see the sky. I needed—

My legs gave out on me and I fell, ploughing into the slippery floor of the hallway. If I had had trouble walking earlier, this was something else entirely. They had completely given up working. I pulled myself to the side of the hallway, trying to will my breathing to slow down. But the more I thought about anything, everything, the more I began to panic.

White spots began to swim in front of my eyes and I could feel my heart constricting in my chest. I needed to escape. I needed to get out of this building. The walls were going to swallow me and take me back to that place. I couldn't go back to that room. I couldn't— I needed to get out. I needed—

"Shit! Bryan!"

I felt someone grab my shoulders. My world had reduced to flashes of lights in front of my eyes. I can remember registering through the panic that I wasn't getting enough air. Despite the rate at which I was breathing I couldn't feel it. I had survived That Man's game only to end up dying in a hallway, too terrified to move to save myself.

A hand pressed into my stomach. "Breathe, Bry." A voice said urgently. "Take a deep breath and try to push out my hand. "

Obligingly I followed the voice's instructions, taking in a deep lungful of air. I could have cried with relief as that horrible feeling of suffocation eased a little.

"Good, now let it go slowly."

I closed my eyes and nodded, releasing the air in one long hiss. I sucked in another breath and opened my eyes to see my saviour. The world came into a hazy vision and I felt an instant headache begin to form. The image of a huge blond crouching over me faded in. Spencer.

"Sp—" I tried, shocked into silence at how weak my voice sounded.

"Don't say anything. Just breathe again," he ordered.

I did as he said, closing my eyes as I felt the cool air filling my lungs. The walls couldn't close in if Spencer was there. They wouldn't do it when I wasn't alone.

Nevertheless. "Outside," I gasped with my next breath.

He frowned. "Outside? You want to go outside?" he asked. I gave him a wordless nod. He regarded me quietly for a second before sighing and inclining his head. "Okay. Just keep breathing."

He slipped an arm underneath my shoulders and hoisted me up, taking the majority of my weight with one strong arm.

"Thank you." I managed as we stumbled together down the hallway towards the nearest exit.

He gave me a wordless grunt as we reached the door to the outside and he opened it with his free arm and his shoulder.

That first breath of the clear, bright air of the outside will always count as one of my best memories. Outside there was nothing that could catch me. I was free. I took a few deep, fortifying breaths, feeling the freezing terror that had gripped every limb slowly dissipate. In its wake was a shaky weakness but even that was preferable.

We were on one of the few patches of grasses that struggled to survive within the grounds of that place. When Spencer let me go I gratefully braced myself against the building and slid down to sit on the ground. I had forgotten how good being outside could feel. I stared up at the night-time sky, marvelling how I could have forgotten what it looked like. I felt my friend sit down next to me. "Spencer—"

"Fuck you, Bryan." Spencer's eyes were distant, looking out on to the wall that surrounded our home. No expression crossed his face. About a minute passed before he sighed. "Why?" he asked, still refusing to look at me.

I looked down at my hands, noting with distaste how the shook with the last vestiges of adrenaline. There was no question about what he was talking about. "If I didn't Tala would have died."

"So you tried to kill him yourself?"

"Better some bruises and broken bones than a bullet." I clasped my hands together, forcing them to stop shaking.

Spencer scoffed. "Whatever. I saw the look on your face when you were doing it. You had the same look on your face as when you beat the stuffing out of those other kids. You were enjoying it."

I snarled and looked over at Spencer, ready to attack. I was stopped by the implacable look on his face. It was a look that brokered no argument.

"You didn't have to clean him up after his best friend betrayed him," Spencer's voice had descended into a dangerous calm. "You didn't have to see that."

"But I—"

"Stay away from him." Spencer ordered. "Stay away from us."

"Then why did you just help me?" I challenged. "You could have just ignored me."

Spencer scoffed and fixed me with a look. "Because I'm not like you, Bryan. I can still feel something." He stood up and brushed off his pants. "Don't mistake this as anything more than it is."

"Wait—" I searched frantically for words. "Can you— Will you— Please tell him that I'm sorry," I said eventually. "I'll leave you all alone, if that's what you want, but can you do that for me?"

"No." Spencer turned and walked a few steps before adding quietly, "I will never forgive you for what you did."

He left, disappearing back into the building before I had the chance to reply.

I sighed and turned back to stare out at the sky. I shouldn't have expected anything else, really. That didn't stop it from feeling like someone had just ripped something vital away from me. Something that I was never going to get back.

I tilted my head back, feeling it hit the wall with a kind of masochistic satisfaction. Was Spencer right? Had the part of me that felt things died? I frowned. That couldn't be true. Otherwise I wouldn't be feeling like this. And I still definitely had the capacity to hate. Not all my feelings were gone. Not yet, anyway.

I stayed there for a few hours, staring up at the stars and trying to convince myself that the world extended beyond the room. That darkness was not always all-encompassing.

Eventually, I stood up and prepared myself to go back inside. I had been lucky so far; I hadn't been found by a guard. But now I needed to return to my room. I took a few deep breaths of the fresh air and sent one last look over my shoulder at the sky before I walked back into the building.

Immediately the walls began looming over me again. This time I didn't have Spencer with me to help. He didn't want anything to do with me. None of my former team mates wanted anything to do with me. I set my eyes forward and forced myself to not look. The walls weren't closing in. They were just walls. I could go outside at any time. I didn't need to be worried.

I opened the door to my room with white-knuckles as I tried to control the fear that threatened to take over. When I closed the door I could easily open it up again. I wasn't trapped. I was about as safe as I would ever be. I closed the door behind me and picked the bed on the right, Tala's side. I curled up on the mattress and closed my eyes, ignoring the cold of the wall reflecting on my face and reminding me exactly how close I was to being swallowed again.

I think the only thing that saved me from having another attack that night was the dominating emotion of loss. That Man had taken away my only link to normality. What would I become without Tala? I knew I didn't have the ability to hold on without him. I couldn't do this alone.

With those thoughts filling my head, I fell into a restless sleep.

-o-

I was woken by the sound of my door being opened.

"Get up."

I opened my eyes and waited for them to adjust. A guard was standing at my door with an impatient expression on his face.

"Get up," he repeated, "He wants to see you."

_That_ got my attention. I sat up and rubbed my hand over my face, willing myself to awareness. If That Man wanted me there was no avoiding it. I had hoped that he would leave me alone for a while. I had hoped that I had disappointed him enough to stop paying attention to me. At least for a few days. A week wasn't too much to ask, was it? A week to recover from my ordeal. A week to get over the feeling that I would never see the sky again, a week to firmly establish that there was a world of sound outside the room.

The guard grabbed my shoulder and pulled me roughly to my feet. "Move."

I acted on automatic, snarling and grabbing his arm, using it to pull him forward and knee him in the stomach. "Don't touch me." I hissed at him before letting him go.

The guard doubled over, clutching his stomach. I looked down at him for a second before pushing him aside roughly and walking past him. I knew where I was going.

"Kuznetsov!"

I paused and looked over my shoulder at the guard who'd straightened but still had a protective arm over his middle. He froze when he saw the look in my eyes, any hint of a challenge giving way to fear.

I smirked and turned away again, stalking down the hallway. If they wanted me like this they could pay for it. I caught sight of Tala standing near the door of our former room. He watched me with a blank expression, the one everyone in that place learned quickly as a form of self-protection. It was only because I'd spent so long with him that I could see the glint of fear in his eyes, the way he subtly pressed himself against the wall, using his crutch to help wedge him there a bit more sturdily.

Our eyes met for a second before he looked down and away. He didn't want anything to do with me. Not anymore.

I scowled and continued watching him as I walked past, daring him to meet my eyes again, daring him to admit to the friendship we no longer had.

I made my way to That Man, forcing myself to remain calm. If he threw me back in that room I wouldn't survive. I knew that already. If I went back into that dark hole I wouldn't be coming out— I'd kill myself before the door had even properly closed. He'd win but it was better than the alternative. At least I would have escaped.

I presented myself to That Man with these dark thoughts swirling around my head, working out the exact way I would escape.

"Kuznetsov," he said, fixing me with an amused look. It looked like he knew exactly what I was thinking and he was _laughing_ at me for it. "Where is the guard I sent?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, darkly. "I'm here now."

That Man chuckled and stood, walking over to me slowly.

I balled my fists and forced myself to stay calm. He couldn't touch me. I knew how to get away from him now. He couldn't hurt me anymore.

The blow across my face sent me sprawling. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, waiting for the stars to clear from my eyes before slowly pushing myself to my feet again. I ran a hand over the side of my face gingerly as I watched him.

He was flexing his hand thoughtfully as he met my gaze. "That wasn't what I wanted to hear," he said mildly, walking over to where I stood and regarding my with both a dispassionate and a proprietary look. "Try again."

I couldn't hold his gaze. I didn't want to see what was in those eyes. I didn't want to see that small glow of pride and ownership. "I dismissed him, Sir. I didn't need an escort."

"Better." I was unprepared for his cold hand taking hold of my face, fingers digging into the quickly-forming bruise he'd just created. "And what gave you the right to do that?"

I couldn't help myself, I cried out at the pain. His fingers had found the most painful spot and were digging into it cruelly. I squirmed until he let go, putting his hands behind his back as he looked down at me. "I'm waiting for an answer, Kuznetsov."

"Nothing," I said quietly, my words almost a mumble.

"What?"

My hand came up to gently rub my abused face, running over it both a comforting and protective gesture. "I had no authority to do that, Sir," I tried in a slightly louder voice.

"Wrong." He passed his judgement like an executioner on high. He hit me again, across the same spot. When I fell he kicked me in my side, making me yell out and curl in on myself, trying to make myself as small as possible. "Try again."

I fought for breath as I pushed myself up again, mind racing. What did he want me to say? What authority over the guard did I have? None at all. But—

His foot caught me in my side and I fell again with a yelp. "Too slow. Tell me what gave you the right?"

I didn't bother trying to get up, preferring to stay as low to the ground as possible. "I was—" I was what? I was angry? I didn't want him to touch me? I was proving Spencer right? "I was better than him," I said, a hardness in my voice that I never knew I had. I pushed myself to my feet slowly, feeling the familiar warmth of anger and violence running through my veins giving me strength. "I was stronger than him and I didn't need him leading me anywhere."

That Man's mouth twisted into a sick grin. "Correct." He waited for me to catch my breath before inclining his head towards the door. "Come with me."

I followed him obediently, one hand resting on my side where his foot had landed. Before I would have simply ignored it until I saw Tala again and gotten his opinion and help. Now, I considered how I was going to stop the shooting pain radiating through my body without his help.

We began walking through some corridors and I felt my breath catch in my throat. This was the same way to the room. But I thought I had done well? What had I done to deserve going back in there? How was I going to take myself out if I could barely move?

He turned a corner and led me down a set of hallways I had never seen before. If I dared to, I would have let out a sigh of relief. Instead, I began looking around myself curiously. It looked like a scientific wing but not like anyone I'd been in before. On the few occasions I had been taken to the scientists before there had always been a mass of people, running around with clipboards, leading other boys through the hallways as quickly as possible, carrying around drugs that had effects I could only guess at. Here, it was quiet, almost reverent.

That didn't stop the oppressive feeling of fear and pain permeating the air.

That Man opened a seemingly random door and ushered me inside. "I have something for you." We walked into a large room with two scientists standing around the edges. A large beydish dominated the area, sinking into the centre of the room."

I regarded him warily. I didn't think I wanted anything he could give me. Seeing my hesitation, he smirked. "Give me your beyblade."

I frowned and fished in my pocket to find my blade. We always carried them. To be caught unprepared for a battle was... not wise. I found it and put it in his waiting hand.

He turned away from me and went to a scientist standing unobtrusively in the corner. While they discussed something while looking at my blade, I took the time to take stock of my injuries. It seemed that I was mostly safe. If I ignored the too-bright lights highlighting the way the walls curved up and over us, ready to fall in at any minute I would be fine. The blows That Man scored on my face weren't anything to be worried about. Only bruises. The side one hurt but I'd dealt with worse before. Without Tala's help I would probably be in pain for a few days while it sorted itself out. Hopefully.

That Man returned, handing me my beyblade and waiting.

I inspected it. They hadn't changed anything structural. The attack ring was still a vicious contraption made by Ian when he was feeling particularly sadistic one day; the weight ring was still practically non-existent. The only difference was a picture of a bird, a falcon, etched on to the chip at the top. I squinted at the fine detail. It wasn't a normal bird. It had metal covering to tops of its wings and chest. It was half bird and half... something that was probably never supposed to exist.

I could feel a small current of warmth from the blade and I looked up at That Man questioningly. "What is this?"

"Your bit beast," he said simply. "Its name is Falborg."

I scoffed. "They're a myth aren't they?" I asked, looking down at my blade again. Bit beasts were the things Tala and I had talked about whenever we were imagining how things could be better. If we had bit beasts then they couldn't hurt us. We'd have power. This couldn't be it.

"Not anymore," he said with evident satisfaction. "We want you to test it."

I stared at the bird, at Falborg, feeling that current of warmth intensify a little. "But... why?" I asked, reaching into my pocket to draw out my launcher. With one last look at Falborg I attached my blade to the launcher and fed the ripcord through it.

"I don't need a reason," he said inscrutably, gesturing to the dish. "Now."

I obediently stepped up to the dish and stood with my launcher held out in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I launched Falborg. I didn't know what I was supposed to be expecting. Until a few minutes ago I hadn't believed anything as powerful as a bit beast could exist. And now...

Now I gasped as the warm sensation I'd gotten from just holding the blade blossomed. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them there was Falborg. I knew that no one else could see him, that it was all in my mind. And yet— I allowed my eyes to roam over him, the shine of his feathers and the way the artificial parts of him didn't meld seamlessly with his natural form. Rather, it looked like they were welded on painfully, unnatural attachments to what once had been a stunning whole. The skin around the metal was inflamed and tortured-looking. Falborg spread his wings slowly, showing me the extent of his modifications. He regarded me with the same scrutiny. I could feel his presence outside of me, sending out exploratory tendrils of awareness. They ran through me, something both alien and intimately familiar.

After a long second where we regarded each other, Falborg seemed to come to a decision. Those small tendrils turned into a flood and he dived into me, joining us and merging us irreversibly. Suddenly what had just been a feeling became everything. I could feel the power of Falborg running through me, I could feel his satisfaction at finding someone to join with, he had been waiting for it, for me. And I could feel his anger, deeper and more insidious than mine would ever be. I had had Tala to call a halt to it but Falborg hadn't been so lucky. The anger had spiralled downwards until it had poisoned everything, permeating his entire being. And with that anger came the pain.

I began to scream.

* * *

Please tell me what you think


	22. Forever Falling

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

* * *

I don't know how long it was before I came around. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. I had fallen and had curled up, trying to protect myself from Falborg. Despite longing for the power of a bit beast I didn't want it like this. I didn't want the sick feeling coiling inside of my letting me know that despite my efforts, Falborg was there. I could still feel his anger and his pain as a low hum in the back of my mind.

"Stand up."

That Man's voice was as calm as ever, like he had seen that reaction many times over. In some weird way that comforted me. Perhaps this was what happened to everyone who met their bitbeast for the first time. Perhaps that raw rush of power was supposed to be that painful. Perhaps all of them were filled with that much hatred.

I stood unsteadily, strangely lightheaded, and looked over at That Man. He was standing against the wall with his arms folded, looking like he had all the time in the world. "I take it that you bonded?"

I thought of the dark feeling inside of me, of the way I could feel Falborg like he was now a part of me. Of the way I knew somewhere deep down that he really was a part of me now. "I believe so, Sir." I said, keeping the shake out of my voice.

He nodded to himself. "Falborg was made for you, Kuznetsov. I would have been disappointed if you didn't live up to our expectations."

I didn't know what to make of that. What did he want me to say? I could feel Falborg's anger and pain inside me. I could even feel myself becoming accustomed to it, assimilating it into myself. It was horrifying and yet— it was also strangely comforting. Falborg's anger and pain had found the pool of violence inside me and I could feel his happiness that he'd found someone like me. He'd found someone who could help him.

That Man continued to regard me for a few seconds before making to turn away. "I'll give you some time to get used to each other. Tomorrow I expect a demonstration of your new power and skills."

"Yes, Sir." I almost sighed with relief as he left the room. I was going to get some time to adjust to this sick feeling inside me. Mostly, I was going to have time to get used to the feeling that I was no longer alone. That Man had taken away Tala and my team but he had replaced them with Falborg. And, as the sick feeling began to subside and the rush of power became apparent, I was okay with that.

Falborg would never be afraid of me. His anger was mine. He was the same as me. No. That wasn't it. He wasn't the same. He was very different from me but in a complementary way. We could work together and become something else. Something everyone else couldn't even hope to touch.

A scientist cuffing me over the head brought me back to reality. The jolt irritated the injuries That Man had given me earlier and made me hiss in pain.

"Clear off, kid," he said, gesturing to my beyblade still in the middle of the dish I had launched it into. It had long stopped spinning. "We have work to do and you standing here and staring around yourself like an idiot really isn't helping."

I snarled at him. What right did he have to talk to me like that? What right did he have to hurt me? Balcov had only just finished beating into me the lesson that I was better than that. And that was before I had the power of a bitbeast. Now I was... something else. This man had no right to order me around. Not anymore.

-o-

I woke up in my bedroom, sprawled on the floor. They'd obviously simply thrown me into the room after dragging me there. I winced as the new bruises I'd added to my collection made themselves known.

It turned out they had an insurance policy against me. The minute I turned on them someone, somewhere had pressed a button and I could no longer move because of the pain. It wasn't mine, however.

_Falborg_. My awareness of him had reduced drastically. I could feel our bond still but nothing else. Nothing that was helpful in working out if he was okay.

I searched the floor around me, ignoring the way my muscles complained. When my hand closed around the familiar shape of my beyblade I let out a sigh of relief. At least I still had that. I touched Falborg's bitchip gingerly, unsure of what I would find. Unsure of what I wanted to find. He was in pain, still. But it was only the aftershocks. He was miserable but it's nothing he couldn't handle. Nothing he hadn't felt before. I felt his regret that he hadn't closed off our bond in time to stop me from being incapacitated as well. When I had collapsed, the scientists hadn't been shy about teaching me a lesson in humility and had given me a collection of new bruises to add to the ones That Man had given me earlier.

I felt a part of Falborg's anger and hatred of the scientists become my own. Unlike the previous anger I had adopted from him, this was all mine. My hatred and my determination to do something about it.

I dragged my body up on to the bed, letting out small sounds whenever I jolted something. I had been beaten before. Many times. But this was different. This time I didn't have Tala to pick me up and tell me that it really wasn't as bad as I thought.

I still have no idea how he managed to do that. No matter what the injury he'd always try to convince me that it really wasn't that serious. Sometimes you could tell he was lying but, mostly, that didn't matter.

I hauled myself into bed and lay there, feeling all of the aches and pains running through my body. Nothing was broken. I knew that much. But everything hurt.

And then the walls started to close in.

I lay, paralysed as the walls of that tiny room loomed over me. I couldn't move. Not again. It had taken all of my strength to get up on to the bed. I couldn't get back down again and escape. I would have to stay still as the walls got closer and closer. I couldn't escape. The walls were going to come down and smother me and I was too weak to even move to defend myself.

Falborg detected the raw fear through our bond and sent out an inquiry. One which I was too afraid to respond to. I couldn't think of anything besides the looming walls and the lack of air and the way I was going to die in that cold darkness and no one would hear my screams.

Falborg rose. I don't know where he got the energy or how he overcame his pain but I felt the opening of our bond and power rushing through me. Not only power but something fiercely protective. I saw the shadow of a falcon over me, wings raises in fierce defiance of the walls. He cried a challenge at them and the walls seemed to shrink back in fear.

Relief flooded through me as the oppressive darkness began to lift. It was okay. I was going to be all right. Falborg would protect me. He would stop the walls from closing in.

His control of the bond faltered and I got a flash of the pain that he'd tried to hide. It was still at almost unbearable levels and yet he'd saved me.

It was only right I did the same for him.

-o-

Almost a year passed in a blur of training and violence and other things I'd rather not think about. Falborg was both the best and worst thing that could possibly happen to me. Through him I had power I couldn't even have dreamed of. I had always been a source of fear for the other boys, but now I was the embodiment of their nightmares. They left me alone and we were all the happier for it. The guards, too, quickly learned to leave me alone. Following That Man's instructions, I had quickly learned that my new status elevated me above all but the most senior guards. The scientists, however, were still off limits. Any time I so much as glanced their way they sent a shock through Falborg that near crippled us. I quickly learned to avoid them.

I saw Tala and his team regularly in the training room. A few days after I had received Falborg, Tala's crutch had disappeared and he seemed to be getting back to his old self, albeit with Kai as a silent presence beside him instead of me. True to his word, Spencer ensured that I got nowhere near Tala. Anytime I got too close or seemed a little too interested in what was happening my gaze was blocked by his massive bulk and a glare that brokered no argument.

Every now and again I would try and defy him, either pushing him out of the way or simply swinging for him. I always regretted those days. Spencer had always been a formidable force but something had changed in him. Whether it was simply determination to protect his friend or something else I'll never know. But every time I attacked him I'd come out the worse for wear. Spencer's strength had always been in the brute force he could summon whenever he needed it. His weaknesses were in strategy and technique. Unfortunately, those two things don't really count for much when your opponent is too deeply entrenched in anger and violence to do anything more than attack head on.

Despite the bruises Spencer gave me, I didn't take the hint. I continued to watch Tala's team from afar and feeling Falborg's anger replacing the void that our friendship had once filled.

In hindsight, Spencer did the only thing he could have done. If I'd gone back to the team in that state there's no telling what kind of damage I could have done. With no close attachments and everyone avoiding me I did most of the damage to myself.

Like I said, Falborg was about the worst thing that could have happened to me. I still wasn't stable after my time in the room. The walls constantly threatened to close in on me and all I could think about was my need to avoid confinement. Falborg offered to protect me from all of that. He saved me. But the price was my humanity. Or what was left of it anyway. I couldn't handle crowds anymore. Too many people acted in the same way as the walls, closing in and preventing me from escaping. So, fuelled by Falborg's limitless rage, I would grab the nearest boy and pin him to the wall before hitting him until the fear had gone. My technique also had the effect of the crowd tending to get out of my way.

That Man noticed the cloud of violence that hung over me wherever I went. He noticed everything. He encouraged it by increasing my disciplinary duties. Instead of once a week or so I was now presented with someone new every few days. And every time it happened I found a boy who was smaller and weaker than I was and taught them why absolute obedience was the only option in that place. There were only a select few boys who didn't have some type of injury from me.

Thankfully, part of those few were Tala's team. Even being in such a dark place, I don't know if I would have been able to turn on my team on That Man's orders. Then again, I did some things that sicken me even to this day so perhaps it's best That Man didn't test me on that front.

Everything came to a peak when That Man gave me an opportunity I never thought I'd have. A chance to leave the Abbey for a day. When he offered it to me I couldn't help but stare.

Ever since that day in the snow I had lived inside the walls of the Abbey. I had known nothing except the grey, imposing buildings, the featureless yard and those frighteningly high walls. And now—

"Sir?" I asked, trying to get my thoughts into some type of order.

"You'll be coming with me on a recruitment trip. It shouldn't take more than a day. Perhaps two- depending on the roads."

I nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"We'll be leaving tomorrow morning. Until then," he reached into his pocket and handed me a photograph with edges worn and soft from overuse, "Kamirov has disobeyed too many times. I want you to take care of him."

I took the photo and looked at the boy dispassionately. Kamirov had been one of my regulars. I was fairly sure his face was still showing some bruises from our last meeting. "Yes, Sir."

I did what I had to do. Truth be told, even as I walked away from the boy's body, leaving it to be cleaned up by the guards, I felt nothing. My mind was on other things.

The next day I was going to have the chance to be free. I was going to get away from the looming wall of the abbey. Even if it was only temporary, even if I had to come back here, I would be free.

-o-

I stared out of the window of the van, fascinated. We'd been driving for a few hours and I was still marvelling. The land seemed to go on endlessly. Surely there had to be walls somewhere. Surely there was confinement. I'd never known anything other than the interrupted view of the grey abbey walls. And now— And now—

I had never felt more alive. I was free and in a world with no walls threatening to close in. No walls looming over anything. Nothing but land that stretched on forever.

Whether my silence annoyed or amused That Man was unclear. But he let me alone to stare nonetheless.

Eventually we reached our destination. It had felt like a lifetime ago since we'd left the abbey. Even if I had to return to the abbey after this. Even if I would never again get to look out at an uninterrupted view of the land. Even if I never got to step outside those walls again, I thought I could die happy.

The place we stopped at had an unsettlingly familiar feel about it. It was an orphanage just like the kind I had been taken from. It wasn't the same one but it had a similar feeling to it. There was bitterness and anger and despair in spades and our arrival was the focus of all of it. As we got out of the van the younger children looked at us with some kind of hope but the older ones ignored us, assuming that they weren't what we had come looking for.

The nun in charge had a hard-bitten look about her. She'd lived too long in too harsh conditions to remember how to smile. Nevertheless, That Man greeted her with something approximating warmth. They knew each other. I took the time to wonder if this was one of his regular recruiting stops as I stood stiffly by the door of the van, unsure of what to do.

Boys arrived in the abbey on a fairly regular basis, maybe two or three times a year there would be another vanful of them taking the places of those who had fallen on the wayside. They all came with similar stories. They had been languishing in a forgotten orphanage before That Man had walked through the door and brought them to the life they knew now. Most of them didn't even know if staying at the orphanage would have been an improvement.

"Kuznetsov!" I looked up. That Man was indicating that I should come to him. Evidently he'd finished exchanging niceties with the nun. I couldn't imagine what they'd been saying to each other. What do you say when you're planning to take a van of kids away, a number of whom wouldn't survive the next year? I put aside my thoughts as I walked over to him.

"Yes, Sir?" I asked, looking over at the children playing in the yard. It was eerily similar to the Abbey, really. The older, bigger boys had claimed all of the best spaces and toys while the younger ones had grouped together. They were watching us. I turned away and looked at That Man.

"We're taking seven. Which would you pick?"

I saw the calculating expression in his eyes as he looked at me. So this was why he'd brought me? To test me? I turned back to the boys and looked at them carefully. I didn't know what to do. I had never been good at things like this. Give me something to hit or something that required force without morals and I was your person. But this? This was people. Tala was better with people.

_But he's not here._

I scowled as that thought crossed my mind. If he wasn't here I'd just have to do my best. I'd spent a long time with Tala. Surely I could think like him for a simple task like this. Surely.

"Well?" That Man looked at me expectantly.

"The small one sitting at table." I said, indicating to a young blond boy sitting at one of the central tables.

That Man scoffed. "Him? He would be destroyed in the first few minutes."

"Not necessarily," I countered. "Look at the way he's watching the bigger group to his left." The group I'd indicated were talking as they struggled to open a packet of food. It looked like it had been sealed back in the cold war and it wasn't about to give up the goods anytime soon.

"What about it?"

The boy got up and walked over to the group of boys and took the packet from the boy currently struggling with it (I noted it was the smallest one of the group. He had been waiting for it to pass to that particular boy). With a few deft movements of his hands, he had opened the packet and was busy sharing it out, keeping the majority of it in the packet for himself.

That Man smirked. "Good."

I nodded. It hadn't been that hard, to be honest. I had picked the one who most resembled Tala.

I picked out another four boys three of whom That Man accepted. I wondered if this was how I'd been selected from my old home. What had he seen in me while he'd been watching in the yard? I couldn't remember what I was like back then but surely I didn't look like I could turn out to be what I was? What boy looks like a monster while he's playing in the yard?

That Man went to the nun to tell her of his choices, both mine and the ones he'd selected. When the group was selected I was surprised to see one who was different. In the main, the boys all had the hardness in their eyes that indicated that they would succeed in the Abbey. But one of them, a small, pale boy with dark brown hair, was different. His eyes showed fear. Fear wouldn't cut it in the Abbey. Why had That Man picked him?

I didn't have time to ponder that before the boys were herded into the back of the van and I was back in the cabin with That Man. I watched the orphanage disappear behind me with a faint tinge of wistfulness. I wished I'd had the chance to see my own orphanage disappear behind me. It might have given me closure. Instead, I had been stuck in the back of this very van with the green-haired boy who wouldn't stop crying.

It was only when I heard the muffled sounds of sobbing in the back of the van that the penny dropped.

That Man pulled off the main road and began driving through the endless land that makes up Russia. I felt myself grow cold. Of course. He hadn't brought me to see my selections for new recruits. He hadn't brought me to give me the experience of seeing what was beyond the walls. He had brought me for the one thing I was good at.

When the van pulled to a stop on a deserted wasteland I knew exactly what he wanted and I'd already begun hardening myself up for it. This wasn't a magical journey of endless land and freedom. This was what I was made for. I felt Falborg's confusion at my disgust. To him this was nothing new. This was a chance to express some of the constant pain and anger that made up his existence. This was a chance to unleash the violence.

That Man pressed a gun into my hands. "I want three of them," he told me, indicating I should get out. "You know what to do."

I wrapped my hand around the gun and rested my finger lightly on the guard. "Yes, Sir."

I got out of the van and opened the back. "Out," I barked at the boys, all looking the worse for wear after their journey. Clumsily, they all got out of the car, blinking in the sunlight and holding on to each other for balance. All except the weak one. He crawled out and fell on to the ground, eyes red and face puffy with tears. I couldn't find it in me to feel anything but scorn for him. It was kinder that I got rid of him now. If he was this weak I couldn't understand how he'd survived this long. Why hadn't he been taught at the orphanage? This world wasn't a place for people like him.

"In a line," I commanded, indicating a line in front of me. "Now!"

The majority of them did as they were told, only having needed a few seconds to get their wits about them. I was pleased to see the blond who reminded me of Tala was the first to stand in the line. He would survive, I was sure. He would be as much an asset to the Abbey as Tala was.

The weak one finally got it together enough to stand next to the real candidates.

I sneered as I pointed my gun at him and pulled the trigger.

I didn't even watch as his body fell to the ground. The other boys did, though. I spoke over their shocked silence, giving them their first lesson for survival. "I don't tolerate weaklings."

-o-

When I ushered four boys back into the van they all had an empty look in their eyes. Something had died in them that day and I had been responsible for it. Their eyes watched me blankly as I closed the van door on them, once again locking them in darkness.

I turned to survey the results of my actions. There was the weakling on the ground, his body looking even smaller and more pathetic in death than it had in life. There was another boy nearby whose eyes had darted around constantly in life, monitoring everything with the attention of a paranoid. Beside him was another, bigger boy whom I had thought would make it. And there, beaten almost beyond recognition, was the blond boy. He hadn't been able to hold his own among the bigger, stronger boys.

I turned my back on them and got into the van with That Man. I didn't acknowledge his words of praise. I couldn't find it in me to do anything other than stare out of the window. If my first experience in this van had begun the process of turning me into a monster my second one had finished it. I couldn't feel anything and I didn't care.

When we got back to the abbey That Man led the new recruits away. They followed him like sheep, not understanding what was going on but too emotionally wrung out to do otherwise. All I wanted to do was sleep. Anything to escape from the creeping emptiness inside me.

I was stopped on my way through the yard by the sound of my name.

"Bryan!" I turned to see Tala, angrier than I'd ever seen him. His blue eyes were slits and his teeth were bared in a snarl. His team were nowhere to be seen.

I couldn't deal with this right now. I was too empty, too tired. I turned away from him and began walking away.

A hard blow to the back of my head made me cry out in surprise and turn toward him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" His fists were balled.

"Fuck off, Tal" I growled. He didn't get to judge me. Not after leaving me alone for so long. He'd rejected me, not the other way around. It was his fault we'd come to this. Even in my void of emotion that was still a festering anger at Tala. He'd left me when I had most needed him. When the walls had been closing in there had only been me. Me and Falborg.

Tala's hand came down heavily on my shoulder and I lost it. I felt Falborg's power race through my veins, fuelling the punch I threw at Tala. Falborg had been with me through the worst time in my life and here was my former friend judging me for my choices. All of my pain and anger was encompassed in that blow, everything I had been feeling for the past year. Everything.

Tala caught my fist, stopping the blow dead in its tracks. I felt pain ricochet up my arm at the impact. If he felt anything similar his face didn't show it. There was a coolness in his eyes that hadn't been there when I knew him, something ancient and powerful was there where it hadn't been before.

He used his grip on my hand to pull me forward and bury his other fist into my stomach. When I doubled over, his knee snapped up to hit my chin, making me stumble backwards. My mind raced as I regained my footing. What had happened to Tala? Before his strength had been in his mind, in his ability to think quickly and strategise. And now...

I tried to hit him again only to have my swing blocked and a ringing blow to the side of my head for my trouble. Now he was different. Stronger.

If I had been thinking I would have stopped there. If I had had a mind that was built for anything other than violence I would have recognised that I was outmatched. But all I could see was the weak blond boy crumpled on the ground and all I could feel was the empty void inside myself as I rid the world of another weakling.

I threw myself at Tala, Falborg's power racing though me and my memories at my back. Tala couldn't hurt me. He was weak. I was better than him. He'd left me and I'd survived.

Tala sidestepped me and turned, expertly sweeping my legs out from under me. He didn't leave me as I fell, following me down and gathering my arms and pinning them behind my back. He held them with one hand and used his other to clamp on to the back of my head and grind my face into the ground. He dug his knee into my back as he held me still. "What are you doing, Bry?"

Despite his hold, unfamiliar hands, his voice was all Tala. It was the voice that I'd listened to night after night as he hatched insane schemes and the voice that had accepted me even when I couldn't accept myself. "Piss off," I ground out, trying to twist and free my hands. Tala put more pressure on his knee, making me grunt with pain and stop moving.

"I saw those boys, Bry." Tala said, anger lacing his voice. "Did you do that to them?

I didn't answer. What did he want me to say? Yes, I'd been responsible for those lost, shell-shocked expressions on their faces? Yes, I'd killed whatever the orphanages had left of their childhoods? There was nothing to say to that. I'd done what I'd had to do.

Tala's hand ground my face into the dirt painfully. "Answer me. What did you do to them?"

"You know what I did," I said angrily. "I did what I needed to do."

"Why, Bry?" he asked, a note in his voice that I couldn't quite identify. "Why would you do that? Why? When you know?"

"Same reason I hurt you," I said. "Same reason anyone does anything here."

"Your choices."

I scoffed, "Just like it was my choice to lose my best friend?" I asked.

He was silent for a few seconds. "I forgave you for that," he said quietly. "The minute they took you away I forgave you."

"Nice of you to let me know," I said, closing my eyes and ignoring the stab of pain that accompanied thoughts I'd been avoiding thinking for a year.

"You haven't seen yourself since you came back. That look you gave me when you first saw Kai..." I could almost picture his face as he looked down at me. His would be frowning with his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he thought about what he was going to say. "I didn't know what to do."

"So you did nothing?" I asked, scowling.

His grip on my arms faltered and I took my chance to throw him off. I pushed myself off the ground and hurled myself at him, getting a hand around his neck and sitting on his legs to prevent him from kicking them. I squeezed his neck lightly and one of his hands came up to ineffectually hold on to my wrist. "Well?" I demanded, loosening my grip so he could speak.

Tala refused to meet my eyes. "I didn't know how to stop you, Bry." Gone was the confidence and the arrogance of the Tala I knew. Instead, he just sounded sad.

"So what made you try now?"

Tala's eyes snapped up to look at me. "I saw the look on your face when you got out of that car."

"And you decided to come and save me?" I asked scornfully. "You decided that after a year you would come and rescue me from myself?"

A look of hurt crossed his face. "No— I—" His words were choked off by my hand around his neck.

"Spare me. I don't need saving." I needed saving a year ago when I couldn't see for the walls. Now I just needed sleep.

Tala's fist across my face surprised me into letting go of my stranglehold. His fist caught me in the side of my neck and in my side as he flipped us, once again pinning me to the ground. "No, you don't. You need someone to tell you that you went too far."

"Like that matters here. You don't care."

"I care when I see more boys walk in here with the same expression on their faces that you had when I first met you. I care when I see you step out of the van that makes it look like you forgot to be human today." He sighed. "I also care because I saw the way Balcov looked at you. You're his greatest work, you know."

"So you care because doing so would deprive him of his best toy?" I asked with a sneer. "You've had a year to care, Tala. Too late."

Something clicked in Tala and he snarled at me. "If that's the way you want to see it—" He stopped himself from going further with visible effort. "I was hoping you would snap out of this long before now. I was hoping—" He shook his head. "What I was hoping is unimportant. What is important is that it didn't happen and we're here now."

"Did you have a point to make?"

"You're coming to practice tomorrow." It wasn't a question. His voice had that peculiar quality of leadership that I would come to know as his 'captain's voice'.

"Like hell I am."

Tala's eyes narrowed. "You're coming to practice tomorrow," he said icily. "You will come or I will send Spencer to make you come."

"Why do you want me there?" I asked. "You already have enough for your precious team. More than enough."

"You're not coming for my team. You're coming because I want you there,"

I laughed despite myself. "You don't want me. No one does."

"Come tomorrow and let me be the judge of that." He stood and offered his hand to help me up out of the dirt. I ignored it.

As I turned to walk away I was stopped by Tala's hand on my arm. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know this would happen."

I shook him off and began walking away. "It was obvious, wasn't it?" I was what I was. Nothing was going to change that. Not even someone as well-meaning as Tala.

* * *

Please tell me what you think


	23. A Reversal of Fortune

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

* * *

"Do you have to go to work today?" Brooklyn asked as he leaned on the bathroom counter and stared at his reflection in the mirror, assessing the damage.

I sighed and took another sip of my coffee, trying to will myself awake and forget the various aches and pains Vladimir has gifted me with. It wasn't working so well. Though my past meant that I could take a beating without too much whining or too many consequences I had never quite worked out how to get over pain. Work through it, sure, but it never quite went away.

Brooklyn turned at my lack of response. "Do you, Bry?"

"Do you want me to lie or to tell you the truth?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He considered that for a moment. "Both." He decided eventually. "Then I can choose which one I like better." He pushed himself off the bathroom counter and walked past me, pausing to steal my coffee and walking out of the room, before flopping down on the bed and looking at me expectantly. "Well?"

I turned to face him while I considered my options. "Well, I could tell you that I need to go to work in order to pay all the bills and buy all the food that we need to survive." I shrugged, "But that would be boring. Instead I'll tell you that if I don't go to work there's a very real possibility that the world as we know it will implode and leave nothing but a giant improbably classy bear named Sheba who likes doing jigs in between picking off post-apocalyptic survivors." I paused. "Also, unicorns exist."

Brooklyn bit his lip as he feigned deep thought. "But... they both end with you going to work..."

I smirked and walked over to him, leaning down to give him a rough peck on his unbruised cheek. "Bingo. Will you be alright today?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He caught my eyes straying to the mark on his cheek and his split lip, not to mention the myriad of bruises I couldn't see. If I was bothered by the pain from my injuries I couldn't even imagine what he was feeling. "Bryan—" his eyes pleaded with me to drop it.

I sighed and pressed another kiss to his cheek. "I know but—" The sound of my phone ringing interrupted anything else I was going to say. I fished in my pocket to find it before bringing it to my ear. "Yeah?"

_"Bryan! What the hell did you _do_ last night?"_ Sven's accent was much more pronounced than normal, his voice a mixture between anger and sheer unadulterated panic.

I looked at Brooklyn sharply before looking away and frowning. There was no way he knew about that. Whatever he was panicked about had to be something else. "Nothing important. What's wrong?"

_"Just... get down here. Now. Soon. Or faster than that if you could manage it_." Sven hung up the phone abruptly.

I frowned as I slowly put away the phone. "That was Sven."

"Is he okay? You were making some very strange faces." Brooklyn said, a small frown of concern on his face.

"I don't know. He didn't sound good," I said distractedly as I searched for my coat. After our fight yesterday I hadn't really expected to hear from Sven for a few days. He was particularly good at holding grudges whenever he perceived that you were in the wrong and the number of chores that Jelena could come up with to keep one or both of us out of the office was truly astounding sometimes. "I've got to—"

"—Go. I figured." He gave me a small smile. "There goes any hope for keeping you at home today,"

I paused in my actions. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?" I asked.

He glared at me, "I've managed it this long, haven't I?" He asked slightly peevishly.

I didn't particularly want to answer that. Not with the evidence to the contrary so plain on his face. "Just... rest today, okay? Don't leave the house. If you need anything I'll pick it up on my way home."

"You're not my mother, Bry." Brooklyn said, his eyes darkening with a hint of anger.

I ignored the uneasy feeling in my stomach and forced a smirk on to my face as I gave Brooklyn the slowest and seediest onceover I could manage. "Glad to hear it."

Amusement replaced the anger in his eyes and his smirk mirrored mine. "Get to work. I'll be here when you get back."

I turned and left, shutting the door behind me. I knew Brooklyn was perfectly capable of handling himself but I couldn't help but hope that he'd stay indoors today. It would be easier dealing with whatever crisis Sven had uncovered without having to worry about Brooklyn.

-o-

When I reached the office I found the door locked. I tapped on the glass impatiently, not bothering to fish for my key. I knew Sven was in there.

I saw him appear from the back room with his baton in his hands, his grip relaxed on it when he saw me but his eyes became much more accusing. He opened the door for me but didn't wait for me to set inside before he began the attack. "So? Do you want to tell me what you were doing last night?"

I stepped past him smoothly. "What's this about? Is Jelena here?" I asked. When you don't want to answer a question I've always found it best to come back with other questions.

"I'm here." Jelena appeared in the doorway to the back room, much paler than normal, if that was possible.

I blinked as I looked at her, Aside from her pallor, her normally meticulously done-up hair was in disarray and her face was devoid of make-up. It looked like she'd just woken up. "You look like hell. Did you sleep here?" I asked.

"Aren't you a charmer." She flashed me a small smile. "Yeah. I slept here, remember?" She waved her hand dismissively, "But that's not important."

"What's important is what she found when she woke up." Sven finished impatiently, grabbing a piece of paper I hadn't noticed off the desk and holding it up to me.

I squinted at it for a few seconds before recognising what it was. The top half of the page was one large picture of Vladimir lying where Brooklyn and I had left him and made our escape. Brooklyn had alerted the guards to Vladimir's presence but there was no sign of security in the photo so it couldn't have been taken more than a minute after we'd left. Underneath the photograph were words written in careful, unmistakable print.

_Keeping busy, Bry?_

"Kai," I said quietly before looking up at Sven. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it taped to the inside of the backroom door." Jelena said quietly. "He was in here while I _slept_ Bry." A hint of the distress she was feeling made its way into her voice.

I swore quietly and lowered myself to sit on the edge of the table. "Are—Are you okay?" I asked, running a hand through my hair as I tried to think. I had known that we weren't done with Kai yet but I had been hoping for a few more weeks reprieve at least. I wasn't ready to face off against him again. And to make matters worse, Kai had been _here._ He'd made it clear that he could get in at any time. If he had wanted to he could have hurt Jelena and left her instead of the note to alert me to his presence. Instead, he had left a note clearly showing that he also had access to Brooklyn and me whenever he wished. I should have been grateful for that but the idea that Brooklyn and I weren't quite as safe as I'd hoped gripped my heart with terror.

Jelena nodded distractedly. "Yeah— I'm fine. Just freaked out."

"Who is this guy, Bry? Why would Kai leave you a note about him? When was this taken?" Sven's voice cut through my worries about where exactly Kai was. I looked up at him and his eyes plainly told me that he still hadn't forgiven me for yesterday. "Well?" He asked, fishing in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He ignored the look of rebuke from Jelena and lit up; Jelena hated it when he smoked inside. She said that the smell lingered for ages and that because we were always out in the field she was the only one who had to suffer. That said, the slight calm that came over Sven when he took the first drag was a relief. I think I caught a look of envy from Jelena but that may have just been my imagination. "Who is this guy?" Sven asked again, his voice becoming less agitated as he took another drag and looked down at the note.

I took a quick glance at Vladimir's photo before looking away again. I didn't need to be shown what I'd done to him. I knew. I'd been there. I also knew it was exactly what Vladimir had deserved. For Tala, for me and for every other boy who'd been trapped in the Abbey with him. I wasn't sorry about what I'd done. But I didn't need to see it. "He's... just someone who was at the fundraiser last night." I said lamely, unable to come up with a better backstory. Sven and Jelena knew not to ask about my past. They knew I'd been a beyblader but that was all. They didn't know about... well anything, really. They didn't know because they didn't ask. The same reason I didn't know why Sven had left his home country to come here. We didn't ask and that was good for all of us.

"What? You decided that he hadn't donated enough to charity?" Sven asked disbelievingly. "What the hell would possess you to do that?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, directing a Kai-standard glare at Sven and willing him to drop it. "It's unimportant why I did it. It's none of your business anyway."

"Bullshit it isn't," Sven said, some of the anger and frustration from the day before creeping into his voice. "Like it or not we're involved now. You brought Kai upon us and now you've brought this as well. Tell us exactly how this is none of our business."

I bristled. "It just isn't, okay? This is my stuff and I'll deal with it myself."

I wasn't expecting an expertly flicked pen to hit me in the back of my head. It hadn't hurt much but it was enough to make me turn and snarl at Jelena who was looking both angry and collected, a combination I hadn't believed was possible until that very moment. "Stop acting like a child." She said firmly. "We're involved with this whether you like it or not. Now, you're going to tell us about this guy," She gestured to the photo. "You don't have to tell us why you did that to him but you do have to tell us why Kai thought he was important enough to take a photo of and leave it here." When I opened up my mouth to protest she held up her hand, "_Then_ when you're done I'm going to send you and crankypants over there to find the biggest chain and deadbolt available in this town and while you're at it you can get this _whatever_ out of your systems and come back here as best friends. Also, while you're out there you can look around to see if Kai left any evidence of his being here." I went to interrupt again but was once again silenced by her raised hand and a glare that would have made the tundras melt and then apologise for making such a mess. "While you two are out there and getting over your lover's tiff I'll be here working out if we're going to get any clues off this note."

Sven interrupted, "—Look in the Rolodex for Rika, I knew her back home and she specialises in finding trace evidence off stuff like that. We've only touched the edges of the note so we can't have tainted it too much. Be prepared for her to grumble at us though. Also look around for anything Kai might have left here. Maybe he tracked in some snow or dirt? Something like that."

Jelena inclined her head. "Okay, I'll do that. Now—" She levelled her eyes at me. "Speak."

I would have asked why Sven had been allowed to interrupt her but I could see a pair of scissors within Jelena's reach and I didn't want to risk it. "His name is Vladimir," I said sullenly. "I met him by chance at the fundraiser and he's connected to Kai's and my past..." I looked away, unwilling to look into either Sven or Jelena's eyes just in case they saw something I didn't want them to see. "He deserved it."

Jelena looked at the photograph and frowned. "Does anyone deserve that?"

"Sometimes yes," Sven said flatly.

The look on Jelena's face said that she was about ready to break our don't ask rule. He lips started to form the first word before she thought better of it and settled with a deeper frown and a sigh. "Just as long as it was worth it." She told me, a note of resignation in her voice. "Whatever he was to you before, he's now someone else." She gestured to the picture. "I didn't recognise him until you said the name. Vladimir Gregorovich, right?" At my careful nod she whistled. "You know how to pick them, don't you? The media's going to have a field day with this."

"Who is he?" Sven asked curiously.

"Am I the only one who reads papers and watches the news here?"

Both Sven and I shrugged making Jelena roll her eyes. "He's got underworld connections— he was in a big court case last month but got off." She glanced down at the photo again. "He was probably celebrating his victory last night."

I shrugged. "Like I care about that."

"You should," she looked at him sharply. "He's pretty high up— as they go. They're going to want to know who took him down."

"They've got nothing to connect us," I said confidently. "The only person who saw us was Brooklyn and he's not likely to talk."

"Not intentionally anyway," Jelena said doubtfully. "Just... let him know? As much as I'm cranky at you for getting us in this situation in the first place I'd rather you not die in some gangland bloodfeud...thing."

"You're sweet."

"And also lacking in sufficient locks on my doors," she said, remembering that she was supposed to be sending us on a mission, not worrying about my safety. She flapped her arms at us distractedly. "Go, you two. Make sure to get enough for your own places as well. If he could pick those locks, the ones on our own doors won't stop him."

Again that bolt of concern for Brooklyn shot through me. Jelena was right. If he could get at us at work there was nothing stopping him from breaking into my home and finding Brooklyn. He'd already proven he could do it before.

But he hadn't confronted Brooklyn since this whole thing started. I remembered the look in Kai's eyes when he'd talked about Brooklyn. There had been fear there. He wanted to destroy Brooklyn because he was afraid of him. And, remembering the way Brooklyn disappeared into violence leaving all humanity behind him, I couldn't blame him. Not really. But I also could let him destroy the only person who'd ever understood me.

Brooklyn was safe, for now, at least. Kai hadn't figured out how to face him and win. At least not yet.

Sven and I left Jelena, not before making sure that she was armed and had a desk shoved in front of the door to prevent anyone from even thinking about getting into the building without either her express permission or some fatal wounds to show for it.

Sven and I left the building, an awkward silence descending almost as soon as we didn't have a crisis to talk about. I shoved my hands in my pockets and began scanning our surroundings, ostensibly looking for any clues Kai had left but really just doing anything to avoid having to talk to Sven. I didn't know what we had to talk about, really. I especially didn't know how to start that conversation.

"What do you think Kai's next move is going to be?" Sven asked, breaking through the silence with about the only safe topic.

I sighed and shrugged, a difficult feat when your hands are shoved deeply in your pockets. "I don't know," I said honestly. "Kai was always unpredictable. The only certainty was that he'd get his own way eventually, or die trying."

"Which one do you think is going to happen this time?"

"Don't you mean which one I hope for?" I asked, giving him a sidewards glance.

"Irrelevant. Which one you hope for is a given. But you know Kai. Do you think he'll get his own way?"

"Not if I kill him first," I said darkly. In my mind there was no real decision. If it was between Brooklyn and Kai, Kai lost out every time. It would be hard. Harder than hard. Kai was a fellow survivor of the abbey and it seemed such a waste to survive there only to be taken out by someone you would once have considered a comrade. But... I couldn't see another way.

"What is Kai to you?" Sven asked, breaking the rule. He seemed oblivious to the line he'd crossed as he fished in his pocket for another cigarette and lit up.

I turned to look at him with a frown on my face. "Why does it matter?"

"It matters to him." Sven pointed out. "If he was so intent on taking out Brooklyn he'd go for you directly and wouldn't bother with Jelena and me."

"When did you get so insightful?" I asked, raising an eyebrow before turning away and kicking a random clump of snow.

"Something I developed while you were busy having kinky sex with your model boyfriend."

"Ex-model," I said with a small smile. "And how do you know about our kinky sex?"

"Please." Sven breathed out a lungful of smoke as he gave me the onceover. "You'd totally be into the weird stuff."

"Is that another one of the crazy observational skills you've picked up while I've been busy?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He shook his head. "Nah. I had that one down before. I can always pick the clients who are going to proposition me and offer to take me down to their sex dungeon."

I frowned. "What? I've never heard of this before." I'd also never been propositioned before but that was a whole other kettle of fish.

"A gentleman doesn't whip and tell." Sven said with a smirk. "Besides, you look like the type who'd enjoy the whole scene just a little too much. Crazies recognise crazy so they avoid you."

"Bullshit. You're making this up," I accused. "If you were secretly being dragged into a sex dungeon by every other client or so I'd know about it."

Sven smirked, a cat playing with his toy, "Or would you?"

Suddenly I wasn't so sure. "I—" I faltered, trying not to picture Sven in ten different compromising positions and failing spectacularly.

He snorted, unable to hold a straight face. "Really?" He asked, chuckling as he took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing the butt with his heel. "_Really?_"

I smirked. "I knew it! Bullshit! The lot of it!"

"You did not know! You actually thought it was possible, didn't you?" Sven teased. "Told you I knew you were into the weird stuff. You were kind of turned on by the idea weren't you?"

"Of you being chained up and spanked?" I asked incredulously. "Turned my stomach, sure. But nothing else."

"But you totally believed it was true." Sven chuckled and tucked his hands in his pockets again. "Pervert."

"So says the guy who came up with 'whip and tell'"

"I saw the look in your eye when I said that. You were trying to work out if you could get me to share my escapades if you shared yours."

"I don't ever want to hear about your escapades." I said truthfully. "I would like to preserve my sanity."

Sven snickered, "What sanity?" he asked.

I smirked, "This is a good point. After all, I hang around you, don't I?"

And just like that we were friends again. Or, at least, colleagues who weren't both willing and able to tear out each other's throats. That was something. Sven and I walked in amiable silence until we reached the store.

We entered the hardware store and made a beeline for the security section. Once there, we began loading up on the heaviest chains we could find and the most complex locks. The kinds that would send you half mad with frustration before you even figured out how exactly you were meant to _start_ picking them.

As Sven paid for our new low-tech security system I waited before scooping up the majority of our purchases and walking outside, trusting him to follow me.

My phone began to ring in my pocket and I reached for it, balancing a small pile of chains and locks in one arm to free the other. The screen announced that it was Brooklyn calling and I wondered why. Probably had thought of something I needed to grab on the way home. I brought the phone to my ear. "Yeah?"

"_Bry?"_ Brooklyn sounded scared, an emotion I wasn't used to hearing in his voice.

"Yeah? What's wrong?" I turned away from Sven to better concentrate on Brooklyn's voice.

"_I— I need help_"

"Really, Bryan?" I froze as a familiar voice came from behind me.

I turned around to find Kai looking at me from behind Sven with his infuriating self-assured smirk on his face. He'd grabbed one of the thick chains Sven and I had bought and was using it as a choker around Sven's throat. "Is all of this for me?" he asked with a challenging glint in his eyes.

* * *

Haven't had a good cliffhanger in a while :)

Please tell me what you think


	24. Crisis Point

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

* * *

I stared in disbelief at Kai holding Sven captive with the chains we'd only just finished buying. This wasn't happening. Not right now. That wasn't fair, was it?

"_Bry?" _Brooklyn asked down the phone, that fear still in his voice. "_Bry?_"

"Yeah. Look, I need to—" I trailed off unsure what to say. What could I say? Kai was looking at me with a triumphant smirk on his face and Sven looked like all of the fight had gone out of him within a space of a second. He'd never quite recovered from Kai's first attack. Before Kai, he'd always had a fighting chance whenever he was matched up against someone. Sure, he'd lost plenty of times but he'd never been disabled quite so quickly and quite so ruthlessly. And now here he was again.

Kai smirked and jerked the chain sideways, making Sven let out a garbled choking sound as Kai moved them towards the alley beside the shop. He'd been lucky that it was so early. No one was on the streets to see our standoff but that probably wasn't going to last forever. "Sven and I will just wait over here, shall we?" he asked. "Of course, the longer you wait the more time I get with him." He disappeared into the alley dragging Sven with him with his scarf trailing behind.

"_Bryan? Are you there? What's going on?"_

I blinked as I came back to the task at hand. I needed to concentrate on Brooklyn. If I tried to talk to him while my mind was on Kai it would only take longer. One thing at a time.

"_Was that Kai? Did I hear Kai's voice? Bryan?"_

"I'm here. Look, we've got a problem here too." I said cryptically. I didn't want to panic Brooklyn further by admitting that it was Kai's voice he'd heard. "Can you deal with your issue for a little bit and then I'll come?"

"_I... yeah."_ His voice sounded small. "_I was wrong, wasn't I? It wasn't Kai, was it? It wasn't—_"

I hung up on him and almost sprinted into the alley. Whatever Brooklyn's problem was it could wait. He'd had time to call me so he wasn't in any immediate danger. Sven, on the other hand... While I'd been talking to Brooklyn, Kai had twisted the chain around Sven's neck, restricting his breathing further, and forced him to his knees. Sven's hands were scrabbling at the chain, trying to find some gap he could get his fingers into to release the pressure.

When Kai saw me he loosened the chain slightly and Sven gasped as he was allowed some air. "What took you so long?" he asked.

"Fuck you, Kai," I said levelly, exchanging a look with Sven. His face had turned red from his struggle but physically he seemed otherwise fine. The look in his eyes said otherwise, however. "What do you want?" I asked, turning my attention back to Kai. If I was going to get Sven out of this in any kind of timely manner I had to concentrate.

"What, did we forget our manners today?" Kai asked mildly pulling the chain around Sven's neck a little tauter. "It's nice to see you too, Bry."

I took a step towards him, my lip curling up in a snarl. Kai took an answering step backwards, yanking Sven back with him. "Please, Bry. Can we just be civil? Talk like human beings perhaps?"

"Let go of my partner and we might be able to," I said.

Kai glanced down at Sven disdainfully. "I don't think so. We're happy just where we are, aren't we Sven?" He asked.

"Go fuck yourself," Sven ground out, his voice rough and barely recognisable.

A small frown marred Kai's face and he moved, doing something I couldn't see. Sven cried out and pitched forward, catching himself on the chain still held around his throat. "Shh now," Kai admonished as Sven recovered himself. "The grown-ups are talking. You're not involved."

"_Exactly," _I said, "Let him go. You've got my attention. Now let him go."

Kai smirked. "Like hell. I can see that knife you're dying to pull out of your sleeve. I'm quite happy here, if it's all the same to you."

I silently cursed. I'd been unconsciously playing with the knife, feeling for the straps I needed to loosen in order for it to drop into my hand and preparing for the perfect moment. In doing so I'd let Kai know exactly what I was planning. I held up my hands. "Fine. What do you want, Kai? I'm listening."

"I want to know what you were doing last night," Kai said.

I couldn't help it. I let out a bark of surprised laughter. "What?" I asked "But— You saw—" You saw me lose control and try to kill the man you want to destroy. A bolt of fear shot through me and I glanced at Sven. Kai knew my secret. Would he reveal it to Sven? Was that what his goal was? "I had some unfinished business so I finished it." I said carefully, looking back at Kai and trying to read his face.

Like always, Kai's mask was impenetrable. "Are you sure about that?" he asked.

I frowned. "What?" Vladimir wasn't getting up again anytime soon. In the Abbey I'd learned to judge the severity of injuries and it would be a few months at least before Vladimir would be able to move without pain— if he ever could again. Not only that, whatever Brooklyn had said to him had left him a broken shell. My business with Vladimir was done. "You saw him. That's over."

A look of amusement passed over Kai's face like he suddenly knew the punch line to a joke the rest of the world was hearing for the first time. "And you think that was it?" he asked. "You think that—" he was cut off by Sven's baton extending and hitting him squarely. Kai's eye's bulged and he stumbled backwards, letting go of one end of the chain around Sven's neck. Sven fell forward onto his hands, his lungs heaving as they sought air through his now unrestricted airways.

I took my chance. I loosened the straps around my knife with a flick of my wrist and ran for Kai. Sven's blow wouldn't distract him for long and I needed to take this chance now.

Kai recovered faster than I thought possible and my knife-wielding arm was blocked jarringly by his free arm as the other used the chain as a whip and hit my unprotected side. I grunted as pain reverberated through my body and backed off, eying Kai warily. I'd lost my advantage, if I'd even had one in the first place.

I heard Sven struggle to his feet and glanced back. He was using his staff to support most of his weigh and his face was haggard. His chest still heaved and his breathing was still in raw gasps. Nevertheless, he moved to stand beside me and, with an effort of pure willpower, held his staff up in an attack-ready position. Only the slight shake in his hands and his clenched jaw gave any indication of his fear. Kai had overpowered him twice now with seemingly no effort and he was still prepared to stand beside me to face him.

I turned back to Kai with a new confidence.

Kai's grip tightened on his chain as he appraised his situation. With Sven, even a half-dead Sven, now at my side and both of us armed it didn't look so good for him. He glanced behind himself at the dead end of the alleyway; We also blocked his only means of escape. Making a decision, he ran at us.

I hadn't been expecting that. Kai ignored Sven and ran directly at me, holding the chain in front of himself and using it to block the knife I'd brought up instinctively. He used the chain to twist the knife out of my grip and used his momentum to barge past me. He was pulled up short by Sven's hand finding a grip on the tail of his scarf. Grunting as the material choked him, Kai dropped the chain and reached into his pocket to produce a switchblade. Faster than I could see, he used it to cut through the scarf and free himself before running again.

I watched him run without giving chase. Sven swayed for a second before collapsing sideways on to me. I caught him and manoeuvred us over to the wall of the alley. Sven transferred his weight until he was supported by the wall and slid down it to sit in a shaking heap. I joined him, not in much better condition.

Sven fished in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes and drew one out. He offered the box to me and I took one. His hand was shaking too much to use his lighter so I took it and lit them both.

Sven took a deep drag of his smoke, visibly calming as he inhaled. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know what. I was happy to sit in silence as we smoked, feeling the adrenaline leaving my body feeling limp and washed out.

I looked over at Sven. He'd finished his first cigarette and was going for another. His hands had stopped shaking so much but his face was still pale.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

Unbelievably, his lips quirked up into a smile. It was a frightening smile but it was there nonetheless. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think I'm sorry I asked," I said with a small smirk.

"As you should be," he said piously before putting his cigarette to his lips and closing his eyes. He opened them again after a second and looked at me. "Is this how it's going to be from now on?" he asked quietly. "Because I don't want to always be scared that I'm going to be dragged into an alleyway and nearly killed every time you do something Kai finds interesting."

I gestured to Sven's staff, lying on the ground where he'd dropped it before he collapsed. "If it helps I don't think he'll underestimate you next time."

Sven bared his teeth in a snarl. "But that's it, Bryan," he said anger lacing his voice. "I don't want there to be a next time. There shouldn't be a next time. I can't handle—" He left the rest of that sentence unsaid and sighed. "I was lucky that I had my baton on me. Luckier that Kai didn't notice me reaching for it." He took a drag of his cigarette. "I don't know if we'll be lucky like that if it happens again."

I frowned. "It's not like I invited him into our lives, you know. It's not Brooklyn's—" I froze. Brooklyn. I stubbed out my cigarette hurriedly on the ground next to me and began fishing in my pocket for my phone.

"What is it?" Sven asked, worry in his voice. "What's wrong?"

"Brooklyn... Was in trouble... Before," I said as I searched all of my pockets. I found the phone finally found Brooklyn's number on speed dial as I brought it up to my ear.

"_Hello? Bryan?"_ Brooklyn had answered before the first ring had finished. He'd been waiting for me.

"Where are you? I'll come get you," I said, not wanting to waste words. I'd been held up long enough with Kai and the few minutes I'd spent sitting with Sven were a few minutes I could have been using to find Brooklyn. "Are you alright?"

"Are you?" Brooklyn accused. "I heard Kai's voice and—"

"Doesn't matter," I said impatiently. "I'll explain when I get there. Where are you?"

He named the store closest to our apartment. "I came out to just grab a few things but someone recognised me and then there were cameras and—" He took a breath and I could imagine him composing himself and forcing himself to stop rambling. "I've locked myself in the bathroom but they're still outside. I need help."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, hanging up as I tried not to let the slow, creeping horror wash over me. Someone had seen Brooklyn while bruises were still fresh on his face. Not only seen him but recognised and taken photos of him. How were we going to cover this up? How was I going to fix this? How was—

Sven's hand on my shoulder broke me out of my reverie. "Hey, is Brooklyn okay?" he asked. "You look more freaked than you did when Kai showed up."

I forced myself to relax. "Yeah... yeah." I sounded like I was trying to convince myself more than him. Which, to be fair, wasn't that far off. "He's just caught. Somebody from the press recognised him and he got stuck trying to get away."

"Why do you look so worried then?" Sven asked. Once again I wondered where this new perception thing had come from.

I shook my head. "No reason. Just... with this and Kai happening at the same time..."

Sven nodded and made an understanding noise. "I see." He paused for a few seconds, thinking. "Why don't you take a few days off? Let everything settle down again."

I frowned, "What?" I asked.

"Kai made it abundantly clear that he doesn't give a shit about me and Jelena," he rubbed his neck unconsciously as he said those words, "if you disappear for a bit it'll give this whole thing a chance to blow over and it'll give Jelena and I time to try to find some kind of evidence off the note and Kai's presents." He gestured to the chain and, more importantly, to the scarf Kai had left behind. "We might be able to find something on those that might help us catch and murder that arsehole." The dark sentiment shocked me and I looked at Sven who was once again rubbing his neck with an unreadable expression on his face.

"But what if he comes back after you—"

"He doesn't care about us, Bry. He only cares about how we affect you." Sven gestured to the entrance to the alleyway. "And the longer you angst about how we'll survive without your strong, masculine presence around the joint the more you prove him right. Go find Brooklyn, lie low for a little while. I'll call you if we find anything out."

I nodded once, seeing the sense in what he said but not liking it at all. Sven looked small against the wall of the alleyway. He looked like if I put one step wrong he'd simply sink into the brickwork and I'd never see him again. Kai had hurt some fundamental part of him that one successful encounter wouldn't heal. It worried me more than I cared to admit.

But I needed to get to Brooklyn.

"Call me if anything," I made sure to find Sven's eyes, "And I mean anything, happens." I got Sven's nod of acquiescence before I turned and began to jog. As I ran I couldn't help but wonder if dealing with the press would be any easier than fighting off Kai.

When I reached the shop Brooklyn had named I didn't know what I was expecting. A crowd of photographers shouting like they were at a press conference? Perhaps something a little less hardcore but I was definitely expecting a crowd. What I got was one pissed off freelance photographer and a familiar face.

"...Sonja?" I asked, genuine surprise colouring my voice. "What are you doing here?" I hadn't seen her since Yamaguchi's death. I'd seen the article she'd written about it insomuch as I'd seen that she hadn't printed any of our names but that was it.

She shrugged. "I was told that your boy might have a story for us so I came."

My eyes narrowed. "_You're_ the reason he's been hiding in there for the past hour?"

She scoffed. "Of course not, I only just got here. _He's_ the one you're looking for." I looked over at a photographer who looked vaguely familiar. I must have ejected him from a few parties because the look he gave me was filthy. "Nasty little thing but," Sonja shrugged, "he called us over any other outlet so there's that."

"What do you want with Brooklyn?" I asked.

"There's a rumour going around that your sweetheart's sporting some pretty impressive looking bruises," she gave me an appraising look. "Happen to know anything about it?"

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach. So that was what they were after. I was about to be exposed for the monster I was and—

"It's interesting that Brooklyn should show up looking like that after attending an event where a known mob boss was beaten half to death, don't you?" Sonja asked with a shrewd look in her eyes. "And you, my friend, aren't looking so crash hot yourself either."

I frowned, shocked but unwilling to show her that. They believed what now? They thought that it was _Brooklyn_ who'd beaten Vladimir? _My_ Brooklyn? Had they _looked_ at him lately? My Brooklyn couldn't hurt an underfed fly.

Unless, of course, he wanted to destroy them mentally, I amended to myself, suppressing a shudder as I remembered that terrifying moment when Brooklyn's eyes ceased being his own and started showing something within him that terrified me.

"Are you going to tell me the story and we all leave happy or is this going to turn nasty?" Sonja asked, absentmindedly fishing in her bag to pull out a packet of gum. She offered me a piece, which I declined. Shrugging, she popped a piece in her mouth.

"You seem not to mind which way it goes," I observed.

Sonja shrugged. "Occupational hazard. It's why I try not to get involved with your lot. It means I'd feel bad every time I come out to cover a story."

"And do you feel bad now?"

She shrugged. "A little. I like Brooklyn but you have to admit that a cover story implying that he kicked the crap out of Vladimir Gregorovich would sell like wildfire," she smiled winningly. "It's your classic David and Goliath story. It could really help his street cred."

I pictured Kai, so amused that I thought my dealings with Vladimir were over. He obviously knew something I didn't and I didn't want to be the one to allow a target to be painted on Brooklyn's back. If someone was going to try to see revenge for Vladimir I wanted them seeking the right person.

"Can I do anything to convince you not to run the story?" I asked.

She seemed to think about it for a few seconds before shaking her head regretfully. "Unfortunately, no. If we don't do it, your buddy over there's just going to sell the pictures to someone who will run the story." She held up her hand, "And before you ask, there's no way I can change the angle of the story. Orders from on high. Sorry, Bryan."

"Don't sorry me," I snarled, turning to walk a few steps away from her. I could feel my temper rising but I couldn't afford to indulge in it. Not here. Not with a journalist who was powerfully interested in Brooklyn's injuries. Not here. I took a deep, calming breath, a technique Tala had taught me back in our abbey days, and turned back towards her.

Sonja looked slightly ruffled by my flare of temper but not overly concerned. Occupational hazard again, I guessed. I wondered how many people had lost it at her while she was trying to do her job. Probably as many as have lost it at me, I thought ruefully.

"Can... Can you delay for a little bit?" I asked. "A few days? Brooklyn and I are going away for a little bit and a head start on whoever's pissed about Vladimir would be a good start."

She appraised me, her eyes narrowed as she thought. "So are you confirming that you're involved with Gregorovich's beating?"

"I never said that. I said that we were going away and that your article will cause us some trouble."

"Trouble which you got yourselves into."

I scowled. "Trouble that found us."

She sucked in a breath as she thought about our predicament. "I can delay it for a few days but no more. But you owe me."

"What exactly do I owe you?" I asked, suspicion clouding me voice.

She flashed me a smile. "I don't know yet. When I figure it out I'll call Jelena."

I nodded curtly, not seeing any other option. At least this way we had a few days to get gone and we had been warned about where the press wanted to take the story.

I couldn't help but feel relief that they had decided Brooklyn's injuries were a result of his imagined beatdown of Vladimir. It was probably the least of our worries at that point but it felt good to think that they suspected my slip of a boyfriend almost murdering someone twice his size over me. It was almost funny, in fact.

Before I went inside to rescue Brooklyn I looked over at Jelena. "Any chance that you'll call off your camera guy while we make our escape?"

She scoffed. "We've already got some photos, Bryan. A few more won't hurt."

I shrugged."Worth a try." I walked past her to the bathroom door where Brooklyn had holed himself up. I knocked quietly. "Brook? Are you still there?"

I heard him moving around the room. Eventually, "Bry?"

I felt a small smile on my lips at the sound of his voice. "Yeah, it's me. Let me in?"

I heard the sound of the door unlocking and he opened it just enough to admit me, standing behind the door so he couldn't be seen by any cameras. Smart.

Once I was inside I shut the door again and took him in my arms, loving the way his body moulded to mine, like he'd always been there and was always going to be.

"I was scared you wouldn't come," Brooklyn said quietly, his voice muffled against my chest.

I pulled away from him slightly and looked at his face. I couldn't see any of the fear I'd heard over the phone. That had probably disappeared in the first few minutes after he realised he was safe as long as he stayed in the bathroom. There was something else, however. Something like old pain. I pulled him close again and he wrapped his arms around me.

"What did you get yourself into this time?" I asked, wincing as his arm found the place where Kai's chain had hit me. Judging from the pain that slight touch had caused I was going to get a rather impressive bruise.

Brooklyn frowned. "Me? What did _you_ get yourself into?" He moved to pull up my shirt to inspect the damage. I caught his arm and took it away.

"Nothing that requires immediate attention," I said firmly. I studied Brooklyn's face again. He hadn't made any attempt to cover up his bruises, probably figuring (correctly) that any attempt to cover them would only make them more noticeable. "I told you not to leave the house."

He shrugged. "I told you, Bry, you're not my mother," his eyes darkened for a second before he looked back up at me. "I didn't expect anyone to recognise me."

"Not only that, they know you were at the party last night—"

He smirked. "—So they can do research? —"

"—And they think you were the one to put Gregorovich in hospital."

Brooklyn let out a snort of laughter. "Apparently they can also make wild guesses and unfounded claims." He frowned for a second. "_Can_ they do that?"

I ran a hand through my hair. "Yeah. As long as they phrase it in such a way that they don't actually _say_ you did it and just let people infer it."

He sighed and leant against the tiny basin. "What does that mean?"

"I've asked Sonja to delay the story but it's definitely going to print."

"Bitch," Brooklyn said offhandedly, making me smirk.

"Journalist," I replied.

"You know, I lied when I did that interview with her," Brooklyn said, looking at the door, almost as if he could see Sonja through it. "I had read her article about Russian prison systems but I hated it. I thought it was clumsy and poorly researched."

"Glad you didn't tell her that," I pointed out, "Else we might not even have a few days start."

Brooklyn turned to face me, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. "What are we going to do, Bry?"

I shrugged. "Regroup, I guess. Work out what we're going to do. Wait for this to blow over before we deal with Kai."

"So just hope that Kai doesn't have any plans for us while we hide?" Brooklyn asked, distaste colouring his voice.

When phrased like that it sounded like a terrible plan. I made a face. "Do we have a choice?"

Brooklyn looked again at the closed door where Sonja and her photographer waited. "Damn," he said flatly.

"Damn."

* * *

Please tell me what you think


	25. Acceptance

**Title:** This is How We Fall Apart

**Author:** PandaPjays

**Beta-Reader: **Kishazi

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1

**Author Notes:** Happy Holidays/New Year/Special Occasions I missed in my break. I hope you all had good ones. After way too much food and way too much running around like a crazy person, I've finally gotten back into the swing of things so hopefully writing/updates will get back to being semi-regular. Hopefully.

Also_, ScottishFanGirl, _I disagree with you.

* * *

When I showed up at Tala's training session I was met with stony silence. Tala had obviously informed his team that I was coming but they didn't seem happy about it. Spencer looked like he wanted to murder someone and Ian... well with Ian it was hard to tell. Judging by the way he was viciously putting together a beyblade with all of his tools scattered around him I guessed that he wasn't thrilled.

Kai simply appraised me before turning his attention back to where his beyblade spun, perfectly in the centre of the huge dish that dominated the training room. He wasn't hostile but he definitely wasn't interested.

The only one who looked happy to see me was Tala. When I'd walked into the room his face had lit up. It hadn't quite broken into a huge grin— the Abbey took that capacity away from all of its inhabitants— but it was close. Tala walked over to me. "Bry! You made it!"

I folded my arms, uncomfortable. "...Yeah," I said, looking away. I had seriously debated not coming. I hadn't wanted to come to a session where I wasn't welcome. I hadn't wanted to see the people who'd rejected me for the past year. I had just wanted to curl up and never think again.

I hadn't slept at all the night before. I kept seeing the blond kid who had reminded me of Tala. I kept seeing the weakling I'd killed without a second thought. I'd kept seeing the glazed sheen that was in all of the remaining boy's eyes as I loaded them back into the van. They'd left something behind and there was no way to get it back. I knew that because I'd lost it as well in a very similar place.

Falborg had kept trying to turn my thoughts to other things, tried to help get my mind of it and to let me get some sleep. But that hadn't helped. I'd only felt his anger. His anger that doing as Balcov had asked had hurt me so much, his anger that I didn't see the logic in taking to weak out of the world so the strong could survive. His anger at his very existence. I couldn't help but feel his simmering rage, so every time he tried to comfort me I had shied away, leading him to eventually give up and close our connection. I was grateful.

Now Tala looked at me like he expected something. I looked back at him dumbly, unsure what he wanted. He had been the one to invite me to this merry session, he could work out what to do with me.

Seeming to come to a decision, Tala held out his hand. "Give me your blade," he ordered in what I would come to know as his Captain's voice.

Wordlessly, I did as he asked. He looked at Falborg critically for a second before turning around. "Ian— Over here." He barked. Ian sighed and put down the beyblade he was tinkering with with a bang. He got up and jumped nimbly over the assorted pile of spare parts and tools he'd nested in. "What do you think?" Tala asked, handing him the blade.

I didn't know what to make of this. It felt... wrong. It felt wrong to surrender over my only friend to people that would not have spoken to me— still wouldn't speak to me— before this morning. And yet I could see what Tala was doing so I said nothing.

Ian appraised Falborg with a professional eye before glancing up at me. He looked away again and addressed the wall a few centimetres to my left. "It looks exactly like it did the last time I saw it. Except with a bitchip." He began to pull the blade apart, struggling with how stiff all of the parts had become. Forgetting that he didn't want to speak to me, Ian looked up, exasperated. "Bry, have you done any maintenance at all? Did you modify it to adjust for your new power? Anything?"

I looked down and shoved my hands in my pockets sheepishly. "I... didn't know I had to and didn't know how besides," I said defensively.

Ian rolled his eyes at me. "You're hopeless," he said before looking back down at Falborg. "I'll clean him up for you today then get Tala to put you through your paces so I can get a better idea of what I need to do with your new blade design." He pivoted and made his way to his work area, ignoring Tala's raised eyebrow and my bemused look.

"So apparently Ian's got our practice session mapped out," Tala said, amused. "And here I thought I was the one in charge..."

A flash of light and sudden heat drew my attention to the large beydish dominating the centre of the room. The one where Kai had been watching his beyblade spin. Kai was now sprawled on the ground and was sitting up, grimacing. He didn't look surprised, only annoyed.

Tala sighed what sounded like a long-suffering and long-practiced sigh. "What happened?" he asked as he walked over to Kai, glancing at the beydish where Kai's beyblade sat, innocuously on its side.

"Lost control when I called Dranzer," Kai explained.

"Again?"

"I thought if I let her lose some momentum before I called her it wouldn't be quite so strong..."

I felt more than saw Spencer's presence behind me. It took everything in me not to glance backwards. Instead, I folded my arms and continued to look in Tala and Kai's general direction. "Spencer." I said levelly, hoping that my apparently unruffled state would put him off.

"I don't know what Tala's doing. You shouldn't be here."

My lip curled into a snarl. Spencer had done his best to keep me away from Tala and his team. "What are you going to do about it?" I asked, turning on him, feeling the violence rising inside of me. Spencer had forced me away from all of this.

"...Nothing," he said reluctantly.

I blinked, surprised. I don't know what I had been expecting. A blow, a not-so-cryptic warning, an invitation to meet him somewhere out of Tala's sight. "What?"

"I trust Tala," he paused before looking directly at me, his eyes burning into mine. "But not you. I will never trust you."

"Piss off," I said, trying not to revel in his glorious impotence. It seemed that Tala had them all on a tight leash.

Speak of the devil— Our conversation was interrupted by Tala walking over to us. He left a disgruntled Kai behind him, staring at his blade with fixed concentration.

"Spence, can you have a practice match with Kai?" Tala asked. "Focus on defence. Kai's going to try to summon Dranzer without killing himself."

Spencer nodded and began walking over to the opposite side of the Beydish across from Kai.

"Kai has a bitbeast?" I asked, keeping my interest deliberately casual. Though Falborg had been mine for a year I had never seen even a hint that anyone else had been given a bitbeast. Especially not Kai.

Tala looked at me with surprise. "We all have them." He smiled at my expression. "Things have changed, Bryan."

I thought about the way Tala had beaten me the day before, the new power that had taken me by surprise. "I believe you."

He looked at me with an unreadable expression. "Battle with me." He pulled out his beyblade and held it in his hand. He indicated toward Spencer and Kai "After them. Battle me. Ian should be done by now and he said that he needed to see you in action with—"

"—Falborg," I supplied.

"Falborg," Tala said slowly, committing it to memory. "Mine's Wolborg." He walked over to Ian and I turned my attention back to the beydish where Spencer and Kai were battling.

Following Tala's orders, Spencer was playing purely defensively. He had taken over the centre of the dish and was coolly deflecting Kai's attacks. I blinked as the image of a large whale hovering above his beyblade flickered into existence and away again. I shook my head to clear it and looked again. Sure enough, there was a whale. But not in a real, physical sense. It was an imprint. Something that you could only see when you looked in a certain way. Like a flash in my peripheral vision that disappeared whenever I tried to look at it directly. But it was definitely there.

"You can't defeat me until you call Dranzer," Spencer called to Kai. "You know that as well as I do."

I felt Tala come to stand beside me but didn't look at him. I was too engrossed in Spencer's and Kai's match.

Kai's eyes narrowed and his beyblade erupted into flames.

"What the—" I took a step backward, away from the dish. I had experimented with blading with Falborg but nothing like that had ever happened.

Spencer's face remained calm as Kai's beyblade, surrounded by leaping flames, attacked his again. Again, I got the impression of a whale hovering above his blade and again Kai's attack was deflected.

Kai growled with frustration and gestured at the beydish. "Dranzer!" he called.

The air seemed to explode.

I ducked instinctively as a wave of hot air tore at my clothes. As it subsided, I looked up to see Kai knocked off his feet and Spencer crouching low to the ground.

Kai swore loudly as he pulled himself to his feet.

I looked over at Tala. His face held an expression of extreme annoyance rather than the shock that I'm sure was on my face. "What just happened?" I asked.

"Kai lost control of Dranzer when he tried to summon her."

"But I saw— there were flames," I said, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

"Weak flames. He can use some of his bitbeast's abilities but only in a limited way while she's still in her bitchip. He needs to be able to summon Dranzer properly before he can use her true power." Tala paused and looked at me with a small smile. "But that doesn't matter."

"It doesn't?"

"Not to you. Take his place." Tala handed me my beyblade. I looked down at it. On the surface it didn't look like much had been done but the way it felt in my hand— it was smoother, lighter— something had changed. Whatever Ian had done had already made it a better blade.

I gripped Falborg tightly as I made my way over to the beydish, to where Kai had only just vacated after being blown away by his bitbeast. As I held Falborg I felt my anxiety over having to face Tala slowly die away. Instead, I had Falborg's limitless rage. I had Falborg's strength and I had my own.

Tala stood opposite from me and I felt a rush of anger. He had been here, training with the people who had been my friends, learning about their new abilities while I'd been left alone with only Falborg and That Man. I'd been left with only anger and violence and they'd been here.

I clipped Falborg into my launcher, my lips curling up into a snarl. I looked at Tala. He'd begun this. Spencer may have been the one to enforce my exile but Tala had been the one to start this. I did what I did because I had no other choice and he had abandoned me when I'd needed him most.

Tala, oblivious to my mounting rage, lifted his blade. "You ready?" He called. Without waiting for an answer, he began to count down.

When I launched Falborg there was nothing there but anger and hurt. Falborg understood that. He understood in a way no one else could. We could never hurt his tormentors but he could help me hurt mine. We flew as one as he bore down on Tala's beyblade, on Wolborg.

I once again had the strange feeling of seeing something that was there and at the same time not. Above Tala's blade was the impression of a wolf, crouched and defensive.

I dismissed the image and concentrated on channelling all of my pain into Falborg and giving him my strength as he hurtled towards Wolborg. I'd aimed Falborg so that when he hit Tala's blade it would go flying at Tala, a small token of my appreciation. Here's what you turned me into, I hope you enjoy it.

A second before Falborg hit, however, Tala's blade moved and Falborg hit it with only a glancing blow that increased his momentum as he headed towards the edge of the dish. I swore and forced Falborg to swerve, changing his trajectory to circle the dish instead.

I could feel Falborg's rage at having been foiled so easily and I shared it. As one, we turned to rush Tala again. I felt a small wind pick up around us. It blew in the direction of Falborg's attack, helping to speed him up while also pulling at Tala's clothes and distracting him. At that crucial moment when Wolborg had dodged before, a stronger gust of wind blew, making Tala stagger.

That was all the opening I needed. Falborg flew in. I could almost see him, an image of fury, a Falcon diving for the kill.

"Wolborg!"

The wind changed. The temperature dropped and I could almost see icicles instantly forming in the now gale-force wind. I felt Falborg's fury as he was buffeted by the wind and hit with the flying shards of ice. Wolborg followed this attack by ramming into Falborg, knocking us off course.

I tried to bring us back on course, to correct what had happened. But it was too late. Falborg fell under the onslaught, screaming his rage.

As he fell so did I, my knees hit the ground and I caught myself with one hand, stopping myself from faceplanting. I felt an overwhelming wash of fatigue come over me. Everything I'd had had gone into Falborg and it hadn't been enough. Worse, it had been over so quickly.

Tala stood, his shoulders rising and falling as he gasped for breath. He caught my eye and gave me a small smile.

I hung my head and felt my eyelids droop. I didn't have the energy to be angry anymore. I didn't have the energy to feel anything.

Tala's hand on my shoulder made me jump with surprise. He'd walked around the dish and was standing beside me. Apart from a sheen of sweat on his forehead, the bastard seemed to have completely recovered. "Are you okay?" he asked, holding out a hand to help me up.

I ignored his hand and pushed myself to my feet. "Yeah. I'm fine." I lurched away from him and stepped into the beydish, sliding down into the centre to pick up Falborg. I could feel his anger at having lost but also a resolve not to lose the next time. Having checked on him, I felt all motivation to move leave me. I sat in the middle of the dish, holding Falborg gently.

"Session's over," Tala called. "Meet you all outside in an hour for the afternoon." As the rest of the team left, I heard Tala jump the rim of the dish and slide down into the centre to meet me.

"You did well," he said when he reached me, finding a comfortable spot on the dish and settling down. "I didn't know that you had the ability to use Falborg's powers. I even think you summoned him for a sec—"

"What do you want from me, Tala?" I interrupted.

Tala considered that for a long second before shrugging. "Do I need to know what I want?" he asked cryptically.

"You were the one who made me come here."

"Are you telling me you didn't enjoy it?"

I looked down at Falborg, I felt his unwavering support. No matter what, when the walls came closing in he'd be there. Falborg would never be frightened of me. Falborg knew what I was and didn't shy away from it. He saw my pain and fed it with his own. "I don't enjoy being dumped on the wayside until you deem it acceptable for you to pick me up again. I don't enjoy not understanding why now? Why did you come now? Why not leave me alone?"

"I wanted... I don't know." He sighed with frustration evident.

"When you've worked it out, let me know." I moved to get up but was stopped by Tala's hand closing around my arm. He tugged it none-too-gently and forced me to stay where I was.

"I saw you get out of that van and I realised that I didn't want to lose my best friend anymore."

"I'm not your best friend, Tala," I said with as much levelness as I could muster.

"You used to be."

"I used to be a lot of things," I said, pushing myself off the curved surface of the beydish and getting to my feet. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to have Tala looking at me in the way he was. I didn't want—

Tala's hand caught mine again as I tried to leave. "Bryan—"

I snatched my hand away like I'd been burned. "What do you want from me, Tala?" I asked again.

"Nothing."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "Then leave me alone. I don't need this." I turned and began climbing out of the dish, trying to forget everything. I didn't want to admit that simply coming to the training session I'd gotten rid of some of the festering hatred inside of me. I didn't want to admit that being here, even with a team that clearly didn't want me, had made me feel human again.

"Walking away from me doesn't change anything," Tala said. "If you keep going like this you're going to wake up one day and find out that you've become Him."

My fists clenched. "You don't know anything about me, Tala. Not anymore."

I glanced behind me as I heard Tala stand, making his way carefully across the beydish until he stood next to me. "I know I don't want that to happen to you," he said carefully, making sure that my eyes were focussed on his.

I faltered then. There was something in his voice. Something I hadn't heard for over a year— since the last time I'd received a punishment from That Man and Tala had helped me. "I don't belong here, Tal" I said, looking at him. "I don't belong with you and your team. I—" lost my sanity for a time— right before I lost my ability to feel anything apart from anger, hate and loneliness.

Tala's lips quirked into a small smile. "It's _my _team, Bry. I get to decide who belongs."

"Why?"

Tala frowned. "Aside from everything I just told you before?" He looked towards the beydish for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts before he looked back at me. "Do you know what you did just before?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "You used Falborg's powers and even _summoned_ him for a bit. You did that without any coaching or training or _anything_, really."

I shoved my hands in my pockets, "So?" I asked.

"There's a reason Kai keeps on getting blown on his arse every time he tries to summon Dranzer." Tala bit his lip. "In order to get to that level you need to have a connection with your bitbeast. It needs to be your partner— to think what you think and to feel what you feel. The reason Kai can't do it is because he can't let go of that much control. He doesn't want to let anyone, not even Dranzer, that close. But you—" Tala looked away from me again. "It took me six months of solid practice to get as far as you did today."

But Wolborg wasn't your only option. I wanted to say. I didn't and, instead, opted for silence.

"I'm not asking you to join out of charity. You have something I need to make my team perfect." Tala gave me a wan smile. "Selfish, I know."

And somehow that was okay. Without Tala looking at me like I was a monster or that I somehow needed to be saved it was okay. _I _was okay. "...Can you teach me how to do that thing you did with Wolborg to beat me?"

Tala's eyes went calculating for a moment before he smiled. "Probably not— Falborg looks like he uses wind rather than ice. But we can figure out something just as cool, I'm sure." He frowned. "Well... maybe not quite as cool as ice..."

I groaned. "That was terrible."

His face lit up in a mischievous grin and I could almost pretend that nothing had changed and we were still sharing a room and he was still coming up with wild schemes to help us obtain bitbeasts. "I've been practicing. I kind of feel like, being the coach and captain, I need to have a small library of puns at my disposal, you know? To keep morale up and all that."

"I'm sure," I said, rolling my eyes and turning to walk out the door.

"Bryan—" Tala's serious tone made me pause as I looked over at him. "—I'm glad you're here."

"Outside in about half an hour, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "Right."

* * *

Please tell me what you think


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